CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(lUlonographs) 


ICIMH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographles) 


Canadian  Institutt  for  Historical  IMicroraproductiont  /  inttitut  Canadian  da  microreproductions  historiquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


rj]  Coloured  covers  / 


□ 


0 


Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged  / 
Couverture  endommag^e 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pellicul^e 

Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Cotoured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


I      I   Bound  with  other  material  / 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Relid  avec  d'autres  documents 

Only  editton  available  / 
Seule  iditk>n  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion  along 
interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serrde  peut  causer  de 
I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge 
int^rieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have  been 
omitted  from  filming  /  II  se  peut  que  cerlaines  pages 
blanches  ajout^es  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  lorsque  cela  ^tait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  6\6  f  ilm^es. 

Additional  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
6\i  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exenv 
plaire  qui  sont  peut-6tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli> 
ographiique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifk»tion  dans  la  m^tho- 
de  nonnale  de  filmage  sont  indk)u6s  ci-dessous. 

I     I  Cotoured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

I I  Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommagdes 


a 


Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pellicul^es 


Q  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
Pages  ddcolor^es,  tachet^es  ou  piqu^es 

ryi  Pages  detached  /  Pages  d^tach^es 

I  >/|  Showthrough/ Transparence 

I     I  Quality  of  print  varies  / 


D 
D 


D 


Quality  in^gale  de  I'impresston 

Includes  supplementary  material  / 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppl^mentaire 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata  slips, 
tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  totalement  ou 
partiellement  obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une 
pelure,  etc.,  ont  6\6  filmies  k  nouveau  de  fafon  k 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 

Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant  ayant  des 
colorations  variables  ou  des  decolorations  sont 
film^es  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la  meilleure  image, 
possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checlced  below  f 

Ce  document  est  (ilmi  au  taux  de  reduction  indique  ci-des*oua. 


10x 

14x 

18x 

22x 

26x 

30x 

J 

...  ., 

1 

12x 


16x 


20x 


24x 


28x 


32x 


Th«  copy  filmtd  h«r«  Hm  t—n  rapredycad  thanks 
to  tha  9anaroaitv  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'anampiaira  film*  f ut  raproduit  griea  *  la 
S4n4reait*  da: 

Bibllothoqua  natlonala  du  Cazutda 


Tha  imagaa  tppaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
possibia  censidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original 'copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  cofiuact  spacif ications. 

Original  eopios  in  printad  papar  covars  ara  filmad 
beginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  en 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa- 
sion.  or  tha  back  cowar  whan  appropriate.  All 
othar  original  copies  ara  filmad  beginning  on  tha 
first  page  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printad 
or  illuatrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  conwin  tha  symbol  -» *'"••"•''» 'JJ!)!' 
TINUEO").  or  the  symbol  V  (meaning    END  ). 
whichawar  applias. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposurs  ara  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  msny  frames  ss 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Las  images  suivantas  ont  *ti  raproduites  avac  la 
plus  grand  soin.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nanat*  da  raaamplaira  film*,  at  an 
eonformit*  avac  laa  conditions  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Lee  esemplairas  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  ImprimOe  sent  filmSs  en  commencant 
par  le  premier  plat  at  an  terminant  soit  par  la 
darniOra  paga  qui  comporta  une  empreinte 
d'impreaaion  ou  d'illustration.  soit  par  la  second 
plat,  salon  la  eas.  Tous  laa  autras  axemplairas 
originaus  sont  film*s  an  commencant  par  la 
pramiAre  paga  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impreaaion  ou  d'illustration  at  en  tarminant  par 
la  darniAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  telle 
amprainta. 

Un  das  symbolas  suivants  spparaitra  sur  la 
darni*re  image  da  cheque  microfiche,  telon  le 
cas:  la  symbols  -*>  signifie  "A  SUIVRE".  le 
symbola  ▼  signifie  "FIN". 

Las  cartas,  planches,  tableaux,  etc..  peuvent  etre 
f  ilmte  k  das  uux  da  reduction  dif  f  Srents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  atra 
raproduit  en  un  soul  clich*.  il  est  film*  A  partir 
da  I'angia  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
at  da  haut  an  bas.  an  pranant  le  nombre 
d'imagaa  nOcassaira.  Las  diagrammas  suivants 
illustrant  la  mothoda. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

Miaocorr  iboiution  tbt  chart 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


^    APPLIED  ItVMGE 


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TMKV  CM.  .  --HT.^^o.„,.v  ..„.  A VO  -  VKS-B.,,0.  HER  TROTTED 
Tilt,  ONE  UIHL  IN  THE  WORLD."     p,ge  66 


CUPID    EN   ROUTE 


RALPH  HENRY  BARBOUR 

lUiutntiam  by  F.  FotUr  Lmeobi 
D0eoraHoiu  6y  Atbtii  D.  BUu^fidi 


RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

THE  OOBHAlf  PBXSS 
BOiTON 

T"li().\T(»:    HI  I.I.  .V.  ((M  K!U  l!N 


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The  Oorham  Preu,  Baton,  U.  8.  A. 


0oiia78;i'^ 


To 
Friends  Above  the  Bidder 


CUPID    EN    ROUTE 


HERE,  son!"  Dave  Fisher  waved 
a  big,  scarred,  seintillant  hand 
and  addressed  the  waiter  in  his 
mildest  voice,  which  could  be 
plainly  heard  at  the  other  end  of  the  dining 
room.  "Get  us  some  good  see-gars;  hear? 
Somethin'  about  thirty  cents  apiece;  none 
o'  your  cheap  stogies. " 

The  waiter  hurried  away  and  Dave  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  until  it  creaked,  pulled 
down  his  waistcoat  with  a  sigh  of  content- 
ment and  grinned  across  the  table.  He  was 
a  large  man,  tall,  broad  and  thick-set,  with  a 
long  neck  that  emerged  bronzed  and  muscu- 
lar from  his  collar  and  carried  a  head  that 
would  have  been  entirely  out  of  place  on  a 
body  under  six-feet-three.     It  was  broad 

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CUPID  EN  ROUTE  • 

across  the  cheek-bones  and  the  jaw  was 
-  square,  and  a  pair  of  pale  blue  eyes  twinkled 
^  from  a  face  that  was  hued  like  a  sheet  of 
'  leatheroid.    A  long,  drooping  mustache  hid 
his  mouth  and,  like  his  hair,  was  of  an 
y  indeterminate  shade  between  white  and  yel- 
^  low.    Hair  and  mustache  had  been  recently 
trimmed,  but  the  barber's  e£Forts  had  only 
increased  the  natural  tendency  of  each  to 
point  all  ways  at  once.    He  was  attu^  in 
full  evening  garb,  with  a  shirt-bosom  that 
looked  a  yard  wide,  a  swallow-tailed  coat 
that   drew   protestingly    across   the   huge 
shoulders  and  a  waistcoat  with  the  gener- 
ous curve  of  the  Washington  Arch.    Across 
this  hung  a  heavy  gold  chain.    His  collar 
caused   him  constant  uneasiness  and  his 
white  lawn  tie  had  loosened  until  it  formed 
a  rakish  cross  under  his  chin.     In  age  he 
might  have  been  anywhere  between  forty 
and  fifty.    As  a  matter  of  fact  he  was 
forty-six. 

His  companion  at  table  was  his  junior  by 
sixteen  years,  a  tall,  well-made,  good-look- 

6 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

ing  man  who  wore  his  dinner  clothes  as 
though,  contrary  to  fact,  he  had  appeared 
in  them  every  night  of  his  life.  He  was  very 
boyish  looking  yet,  in  spite  of  the  lines  which 
told  of  eight  years  of  labor  and  struggle  and 
final  achievement.  Wade  Forbes,  like  his 
companion,  was  tanned  by  sim  and  wind, 
and  his  hands,  one  of  which  held  the  check 
which  the  waiter  had  just  presented,  al- 
though well  manicured,  bore  evidence  of 
toil  with  pick  and  shovel,  sledge  and  drill. 
His  face,  expressing  at  once  resolution  and 
good  temper,  was  clean  shaven,  his  hair  was 
dark  and  a  pair  of  calm  and  steady  brown 
eyes  answered  his  partner's  smile. 

"Dave,  you're  getting  reckless,"  he  said. 

"Huh!"  Dave  gulped  down  an  oath. 
"If  I  lived  in  this  town  I  reckon  I  wouldn't 
have  a  red  at  the  end  of  the  month  It 
sure  does  appeal  to  your  generous  nature. 
Wade.  Seems  like  I  coudn't  keep  my 
hands  out  of  my  pockets  here."  He. 
glanced  about  him  over  the  crowded  room;< 
the  hanging  baskets  of  ferns,  the  leaf-hidden 

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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

lights,  the  splashing  fountain,  the  bus) 
hurrying  waiters.  "Remember  the  Senat 
restarong  at  Telluride,  Wade?  This  soi 
o'  reminds  you  of  it,  don't  it?  It's  s 
different!  Reckon  all  these  gay  dudes  liv 
here,  boy,  or  just  come  in  for  a  good  feed? 

"Just  here  for  dinner,  I  guess,  most  c 
them.  The  quiet  folks  in  the  comers  am 
at  the  side  tables  are  guests  of  the  hotel 
probably.  The  splashy  ones  are  outsider 
blowing  in  a  week's  salary. " 

"What?  Ain't  they  all  millionaires?' 
exclaimed  Dave.  "Gee,  I  was  feelin'  poo 
and  humble,  boy!  Reckon  that  under 
sized  galoot  over  there  with  the  golden 
haired  Venus  ain't  got  no  more'n  I  have 
Wade?" 

"It's  a  safe  bet,"  laughed  Wade.  "'. 
dare  say  if  it  came  to  a  show-down,  Dave 
you'd  outstack  'em  all. " 

"Well,  I'll  be—"  Dave  swallowed  it 
"Think  o'  that!  I  thought  they  was  al 
Rockefellers  and  Goulds  and  J.  P.  Morgans 
Well,  if  that  little  two-by-twice  dude  ain'i 

8 


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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

got  any  coin  I  don't  see  ^hat  a  fine  lookin' 
lady  like  she  is  wants  with  him."  Dave 
stroked  his  mustache,  and  gazed  admiringly 
across.  "  She's  certainly  a  winner  on  looks, 
ain't  she?"  He  caught  Wade's  look  of 
amusement  and  answered  it  with  a  shake  of 
his  head.  "  New  York  ain't  no  proper  place 
for  a  married  man»  partner.  I  been  feelin' 
frisky  ever  since  I  lit  out  of  that  Pullman 
car  this  momin'.  Don't  you  go  an'  leave 
me  alone  here,  boy.  If  you  do  I  won't  be 
answerin'  for  any  consequences  arisin'  there- 
from. What  you  got  there?"  This  to  the 
waiter  who  was  displaying  three  open  cigar 
boxes.  '"Romeo  and  Juliet,'  eh?  That's  a 
new  one  on  me,  son,  but  I  reckon  they're 
all  right.  I  seen  the  play  once  and  Juliet 
was  all  to  the  good.     How  much  are  they?  " 

"  Forty  cents,  sir. " 

"Forty,  eh?  Didn't  I  tell  you  I  wanted 
fifty-centers?" 

"Those  are  all  right,  Dave,"  Wade  in- 
terposed. 

"Are  they?  Well,  you  know,  partner." 
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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

He  picked  out  a  handful  and  tossed  them  on 
the  table.    "Have  some.    Howmuch^son?" 
"Two  dollars  and  eighty  cents,  sir.    I'll 
^  bring  a  check. " 

"All  right.  Ain't  anything  more  we  got 
to  eat,  is  there,  Wade?  'Cause  I  certainly 
am  feelin'  kind  o'  discouraged. " 

"No,  I  guess  we've  done  our  duty,  Dave. 
I  suppose  you'll  want  to  go  to  the  theatre, 
won't  you?" 

''Anything  better  in  sight?" 
"No,  not  unless  you'd  rather  try  opera," 
answered  Wade  with  a  smile. 

"Opera?    You  mean  grand  opera  that 
you  read  about?    I  never  been  to  one  of 
them.     How    are    they,    pretty—"    Dave 
waved  his  cigar— "pretty  tony?" 
"About  the  limit  on  style,  Dave. " 
"Well,  there  aint  nothin'  I  ain't  ready 
to  go  up  against!  Lead  me  to  it!    I'm 
feeUn'  sort  o'  rich  and  dizzy,  boy,  and  I 
reckon  I  want  the  best  there  is." 

Wade  took  up  the  evening  paper  and 
glanced  over  the  amusement  column 

10 


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V  ) 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Then  I  guess  it's  the  Manhattan  for 
ours,    Dave.    They're    singing   Herodiade    |  .^^ 
there.    It's  Aida  at  the  other  house,  and  I  ~lj^^ 
guess  Herodiade  would  suit  you  better. " 

"Just  as  you  say.  I  ain't  never  heard  of 
either  of  'em.  How  about  this  Eye-taUan 
feller,  Caruso?   He  doin'  anything  tonight?" 

"Not  tonight,"  Wade  answered.  "It's 
Cavalieri  and  Renaud  at  the  Manhattan." 

Dave  blinked  and  waved  his  cigar  ac- 
quiescently. 

"  Soimds  all  right,  boy.  I  leave  it  to  you. 
Just  as  long  as  there's  plenty  of  style  and 
ginger  I'm  for  it.  Pay  your  bill  and  let's 
get  along.  I  ain't  spent  any  money  for 
'most  an  hour  and  my  roll's  gettin'  awful 
nervous!" 


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II 


N  spite  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour  they 
were  fortunate  and  secured  seats  in  the 
first  row  of  the  balcony  just  at  the  turn 
on  the  left.  It  was  Dave's  treat  and 
he  had  been  disappointed  at  not  being  al- 
K  T"^  *«  P«y  ^'^^  for  the  tickets  than  he 
had.  "I  always  thought  grand  opera  was 
about  five  dollars  a  throw,"  he  said  doubt- 
fully. "You  sure  this  is  the  real  thing, 
partner.?"  When  they  had  left  the  taxicab 
at  the  door  Wade  had  suggested  that  the 
driver  call  back  for  them  after  the  perform- 
ance. 

"That's  so,"  agreed  Dave.  "Son,  you 
come  back  here  in  a  couple  of  hours  and 
wait  for  me.  You  just  let  out  a  yell  for  Mr. 
Fisher  and  I'll  get  you."  Then  the  car- 
nage man  slammed  the  door,  said  "Eleven- 
twenty"  and  thrust  a  card  into  Dave's 

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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


hand.  Wade  explained  the  system  of  car- 
riage calling,  and  Dave  blocked  the  traffic 
for  a  minute  while  he  looked  up  at  the 
electric  announcer.  " Gee,  ain't  that  cute?  " 
he  marvelled.  "What  they  don't  think  of 
nowadays  ain't  much!" 

The  big,  heavily-decorated  house  was 
well  filled,  and  all  save  the  upper  rows  of 
boxes  held  their  quota  of  over — or  under- 
dressed  women,  with  here  and  there  a  dark 
coat  marking  the  presence  of  a  male  escort. 
One  gown,  of  flamingo  red,  caught  Dave's 
fancy  at  once. 

"Now  there's  what  I  call  a  real  pretty 
dress,  partner,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse  whisp. 
"That's  bang-up,  ain't  it.     But,  say,  boy, 
ain't  she  a  le-eetle  bit  old  to  be  wearin'  such 
bright  colors.''" 

•  That  the  subject  of  Dave's  remarks 
didn't  overhear  them  was  merely  because 
she  was  at  the  other  side  of  the  house,  for 
Dave's  faintest  and  most  confidential  whis- 
pers had  the  soft  and  dulcet  qualities  per- 
taining to  a  mountain  avalanche  or  a  distant 

13 


•    1   ^    / 

-      1      ^      '   ■ 

j.y-;.  '^ 

1               ..Z      ,-^-c- 

'■■■    >^- 

i   .                 ■      -              i 

1     :    ■ 

_ 

^^^: 

LMd 

i    U 


) 


JL-' 

■■^K 


=„  \ 


N- 


I  i 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

thunder  stonn.    Hione  in  his  vicinity  turned 
amused  glances  toward  him  and  put  their 
heads  together;  Wade  heard  the  low  hum  of 
voices,  the  suppressed  mirth.     But  the  next 
instant   he   had   forgotten   them.     In   the 
nearest  l)ox,  distant  but  a  few  yards,  a  girl 
had  turned  her  face  toward  them.    And 
such  a  face!    Wade's  heart  sprang  up  in  his 
throat — or  so  it  seemed — turned  over  twice 
quite  deliberately  and  went  floating,  sink- 
ing back  into  place,  leaving  him  dazed  and 
breathless.    The  girl's  dark  eyes— violet- 
blue  they  looked  to  Wade— rested  a  moment 
on  Dave,  while  the  faintest  flicker  of  sym- 
pathetic   amusement    lighted    them,    and 
then  passed  on  to  his  companion.     For  an 
instant,   a   blissful,   heart-stirring  instant, 
the  blue  eyes  looked  straight  into  Wade's, 
very  straightly,  calmly,  impersonally.  Then 
the  girl's  gaze  i;  mdered  past  him,  hovered 
a  moment  and  returned  for  just  the  smallest 
fraction  of  time  ere  she  turned  her  face 
toward  the  stage  again.    But  in  that  second 
glance  there  had  been  a  faint  interest,  a 

14 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


?\ 


vague  quetiion,  and  short  as  it  was  Wad(( 
had  read  it.  What  his  owe  eyes  conveyed 
he  never  knew.  He  took  a  long  breath  and 
came  to  himself  to  find  Dave's  voice  rumb- 
ling in  his  ears. 

"That's  a  hell  of  a  big  band,"  observed 
Dave. 

Wade  had  purchased  a  libretto  and  now 
he  thrust  it  into  his  friend's  hands.  "  You'd 
better  read  the  storj'  of  the  first  act,"  he 
said,  "so  you'll  know  what  it  is  all  about." 
He  pointed  out  the  English  translation  and 
Dave  bent .  -^r  it  frowningly,  his  lips  work- 
ing as  he  ret  a.  Wade's  eyes  and  thoughts 
went  back  to  the  girl  in  the  box. 

Her  back  was  half  toward  him  so  that 
even  by  leaning  forward  he  could  catch  but 
an  imperfect  view  of  her  profile.  But 
even  so  much  made  him  glow  and  set  his 
heart  to  thumping  again.  She  was  dressed 
in  pale  blue,  and  the  soft,  satiny  gown 
followed  closely  every  graceful  line  of  the 
girlish  form.  Her  neck  was  bare,  and  short 
sleeves  terminating  in  silver  fringe  left  the 


liii 


IS 


\V 


_<-:.-_t~. 


'??r 


— ,, ,  ^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

i    slim   round  arms  to  view.    There  was  a 
double  chain  of  pearls  about  the  straight 
throat  and  the  dark  brown  hair  held  a  spray 
of  silver  leaves.     Now  and  then  a  half  turn 
of  her  head  gave  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  her 
face  in  profile,  of  soft  cheek  and  arched 
brow,  of  a  nose  slightly  aquiline,  delicate, 
sensitive,  a  straight  brow  under  the    soft 
hair,  a  small,  quiet  mouth,  and  a  chin  that 
in  spite  of  its  soft  curves  held  a  certain 
tranquil  strength.     She  sat  erect  as  though 
her  lithe  body  disdained  the  support  of  the 
chair-back  and  reminded  Wade  of  a  young 
queen  on  her  throne.    The  rolled  programme 
in  her  right  hand  took  on  the  likeness  of  a 
scepter.    Queen  or  commoner,  she  had  one 
loyal  subject  that  evening,  for  Wade's  heart 
had    confessed    allegiance   with    that    first 
meeting  glance. 

There  were  five  women  with  her  in  the 
box,  but  save  that  one  was  elderly  with 
silver-gray  hair  and  that  the  rest  were 
apparently  matrons  whose  ages  ran 
the  gamut  of  the  thirties  and  forties.  Wade 

16 


ii 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


could  have  told  nothing  of  them.  And 
before  his  attention  had  c  jortunity  to 
reach  them  the  house  darkened  and  the  big 
curtain  rolled  up  on  a  red  and  green  stage. 

Dave  didn't  display  much  interest  in 
things  at  first,  pven  Salome's  appearance 
on  the  scene  leaving  him  unaffected.  But 
when  Herodias  came  on,  Wade  heard  Dave's 
chair  creak. 

"She's  some  on  looks,  ain't  she,  boy?" 
he  whispered.  "What's  the  trouble  with 
her?    Someone  been  talkin'  sassy?" 

"  S-sh, "  cautioned  Wade.  "  You  mustn't 
talk,  Dave. " 

Dave  settled  back  in  his  chair  again  and 
remained  silent  until  John  appeared.     Then, 

"Who's  that  yellow-whiskered  galoot?" 
he  inquired  cautiously.  Wade  explained  in 
whispers. 

"John  the  Baptist?  The  feller  in  the 
Bible?"  rumbled  Dave  in  astonishment. 
"  V/ell,  were  n't  he  a  pill !  But,  say,  he  can 
sure  sing  some  few,  can't  he?  Looks  like 
she  was  stuck  on  him,  eh?     Ain't  that  like 

17 


A 


irU 


m 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

a  fool  woman  to  pass  up  a  King  and  get 
dippy  about  a  Jack?" 

When  the  curtain  went  down  Dave  had  a 
good  many  questions  to  ask  and  Wade  was 
kept  busy  answering  them,  but  that  didn't 
prevent  him  from  keeping  his  eyes  on  the 
divinity  in  the  box.     He  wondered  how  old 
she  was.     It  was  hard  to  decide  that.     She 
might  be  eighteen  or  she  might  be  twenty- 
two.     But  the  matter  of  age  didn't  engage 
his   cutiosity    long.     The    problem    to   be 
solved  was:  Who  was  she?     Where  did  she 
live?     How  was  he  to  meet  her?    For  know 
her  he  must  and  love  her  he  would!    Vari- 
ous schemes  for  obtaining  the  information 
he  desired,  came  and  were  rejected.     In  the 
end  the  only  thing  to  do,  so  far  as  he  could 
see,  was  to  find  out  her  name,  if  possible, 
from  someone  in  the  house.     He  would  ask 
the  ushers  first,  and  for  that  he  must  wait 
for  the  next  intermission.     The  Ughts  sank 
and  the  girl  in  the  box  became  an  indistinct 
figure,  only  the  ivory  of  her  face  and  neck  and 
arms  showing  wanly  in  the  purplish  gloom. 

18 


I 


-S~*v. 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE  t;'^ ' 

The  act  went  on,  a  blaze  of  color,  a  riot  ^^^s^J^-    4. 


4>*-.'^^:i^^ 


of  sound  and  movement,  to  its  end.  At  the 
fall  of  the  curtain  Wade  arose.  "I  want 
to  speak  to  someone,  Dave,"  he  explained. 
Dave  winked  gravely  and  pulled  himself 
out  of  his  seat.  "  So  do  I, "  he  said.  They 
parted  at  the  stairs  and  Wade  sought  the 
nearest  usher.  The  box,  he  learned  was 
the  Pearse  box  and  the  subscriber  herself 
was  the  little  silver-haired  lady  in  the  steel 
gray  satin.  But  the  usher  didn't  know 
the  young  lady  in  light  blue.  Neither  did 
the  next  usher,  nor  the  next.  But  Wade 
was  satisfied.  They  would  givt  him  the 
address  of  the  box  holder  at  the  offic  and  if 
need  be,  the  Uttle  silver-haired  lady  must 
supply  the  rest  of  the  information  he 
desired.  As  an  indication  of  his  condition 
of  mind — or  heart — I  may  say  that  it 
didn't  occur  to  him  then  that  to  apply  to  a 
total  stranger  for  the  name  and  address  of 
a  guest  at  the  opera  would  be  either  outre 
or  ridiculous.  He  rescued  Dave  and  hurried 
back  to  his  seat,  fearial  lest  the  girl  should 

19 


'K 


■■'.J 


s 


^ 


a  \\ 


i-j 


## 


i:r' 


r-c^-- 


^-_ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

cast  a  glance  in  his  direction  and  he  not  be 
there  to  intercept  it.  But  apparently  she 
had  either  never  realized  his  existence  or 
had  promptly  forgotten  it,  for  not  once  did 
she  turn  her  head.  Dave  was  yawning 
frankly  and  looking  at  his  big  diamond- 
encrusted  watch. 

^^  "It  ain't  awful  lively,  is  it?"  he  asked. 
"Is  it  goin'  to  last  much  longer.'" 

"About  an  hour,"  Wade  replied  as  the 
house  darkened.     Dave  sighed. 

"I    reckon    a    good    smart    vawdervi'.; 
show  was  what  I  needed,"  he  said. 

The  orchestra  began  the  intermezzo  and 
the  audience  hushed  to  silence.  Wade, 
gazing  in  the  mellow  twihght  at  the  girl 
in  the  box,  experienced  emotions  that  were 
as  strange  to  him  as  they  were  sweet,  and 
as  sweet  as  they  were  sad.  The  strings 
tinkled  and  sobbed,  and  the  wind  instru- 
ments took  up  the  theme  and  carried  it 
softly  on.  And  Wade's  heart  beat  faster 
and  faster  under  the  triple  spell  of  music 
and  love  and  fragrance;  for  the  air  about 

20 


/ 


L 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


him  was  laden  with  the  sensuous,  lemony 
odor  of  gardenias,  and  for  months  after  the 
faintest  whiff  from  one  of  those  white 
blossoms  made  his  pulses  leap.  When  the 
last  strain  had  died  away  the  house  burst 
into  delighted  applause  and  the  leader 
waved  his  baton  again.  And  at  that 
moment  the  dim  line  of  white  that  was  Her 
face  broadened  to  an  ivory  oval.  She  had 
turned  and  was  looking  in  his  direction! 
Whether  her  eyes  were  on  him  he  didn't 
know,  but  for  a  full  moment  she  gazed  over 
her  shoulder  and  Wade  gazed  hungrily 
back.  Then  slowly  the  face  turned  away 
again,  and  Wade  wondered  whether  tiiose 
beside  him  could  hear  his  heart  thumping. 
Later  they  made  their  way  with  the 
throng  down  the  stairs  through  the  foyer 
and  out  into  the  cold  frosty  night.  They 
had  stopped  at  the  check  room  for  their 
coats  and  so  reached  the  sidewalk  in  the 
midst  of  the  confusion.  Dave  found  his|i 
carriage  check  after  much  seeking,  sur-  i 
rendered  it  and  followed  W^ade  to  a  position 

21 


in 


\  ' 


!  ;  -.:  .-^.. 


v.  ' 

.'•Vv' . 


r^j 


^v 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

out  of  the  way.  Wade  scanned  the  throng 
eagerly  for  sight  of  the  girl,  and  presently 
his  sight  was  rewarded.  She  came  through 
the  entrance  in  the  van  of  her  party,  a 
long  fur-trimmed  wrap  enveloping  her.  At 
that  instant  a  ragged,  liquor-soddened  man 
pushed  his  way  unsteadily  toward  her. 

"What's  yer  number,   lady?     Give  me 
yer  number!" 

Whether  he  stumbled  on  his  own  uncer- 
tain feet  or  tripped  over  someone  else's 
doesn't  matter.     But  with  hand  out-stretch- 
ed for  her  carriage  check  he  half  fell  against 
the  girl  and  to  save  himself  seized  her  arm. 
She  drew  back  with  a  stifled  cry  and  a  look 
of  loathing.     Wade   sprang  forward,    but 
Dave  was  ahead.     With  one  hand  he  seized 
the  man  and  sent  him  reeling  into  the  street. 
"Get    out,    you    sneaking    coyote!"    he 
roared.    And  then,  dropping  his  voice  to  a 
reassuring  rumble:  "It's  all  right.  Miss,  I 
reckon  he  didn't  mean  no  harm,  ma'am." 
The  girl's  startled  gaze  encountered  Da\e 
dubiously  until  recognition  came.    Then, 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  with  a  smile. 
"It  doesn't  matter.  He — rather  startled 
me."  Her  gaze  went  past  him  to  Wade, 
who,  inwardly  reviling  Dave  for  his  luck, 
stood  at  his  shoulder.  "Thank  you,"  she 
repeated  with  a  little  incUnation  of  her 
head,  and  the  smile  that  accompanied 
seemed  to  include  Wade.  Then  she  passed 
on,  the  little  silver-haired  lady  discharging 
questions  with  the  rapidity  of  a  gatling 
gun,  and  Wade,  following  her  with  his  gaze, 
saw  her  swallowed  up  by  an  electric  brough- 
am. Dave,  running  a  finger  around  inside 
his  collar  to  ease  the  pressure,  scowled  about 
him. 

"Where's  that  damned  drunken  galoot?" 
he  growled. 

"Gone,"  said  Wade.  "And  we'd  better 
go  too.     Here's  our  taxi. " 

"Think  of  him  puttin'  his  dirty  hands  on 
a    fine-lookin'    gal    like    that,  partner!     I 
oughter  rung  his  neck!"    And  Dave,  still  4;"^ 
muttering  his  wrath,  followed  Wade  intor^^ 
the  cab.  ( 

23  '^^^^^^^ 


>S-\ 


i/'r- 


l\'- 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

Wade  was  silent  as  they  were  jounced 
and  rattled  back  toward  the  hotel.  But 
Dave  soon  recovered  his  equanimity  and 
talked  for  two. 

"Did  you  see  that  gal.  Wade?"  he  asked. 
"WaVtsheapeach.J^" 

"Yes,"  said  Wade, 

"She  sure  was,  boy,  they  certainly  do 
grow  'em  good-lookin'  in  this  town.  I've 
seen — "  He  broke  off  abruptly  and  half 
sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Jumpin' — Missed  him, 
by  God!"  He  sank  back  again.  "Say, 
I  wouldn't  drive  one  o'  these  taximobiles  for 
a  fortune.  Wade!  I  reckon,  though,  you'd 
get  used  to  runnin'  over  folks  after  awhile. 
Reckon  that  feller  out  there 's  got  more  nicks 
on  his  gun  than  the  Apache  Kid!  Dare 
say  he  don't  eat  real  hearty  when  he  ain't 
killed  a  half-dozen  women  an'  children. 
Whoa,  you — Honest,  partner,  this  gets  on 
my  nerves  somethin'  awful!  The  way  he 
just  don't  hit  'em  has  me  beat.  He  must 
have  driv  a  fire-engine  'fore  he  got  this 
thing.     Why,  say,  boy,  I  was  in  a  bucket 

24 


Ilw 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

once  when  it  got  loose  and  dropped  twelve 
levels  an'  it  weren't  a  shake  to  this;  just 
what  you  might  call  mildly  exhileratin' ! 
I'd  hate  like  hell  to  get  killed  in  the  middle 
of  New  York  City,  boy;  it  wouldn't  sound 
well  back  at  Lone  Mesa,  would  it?  Folks 
'd  think  I  was  drunk!" 

He  heaved  a  sigh  of  genuine  relief  when 
the  cab  pulled  up  wi.  i  a  final  plunge  in 
front  of  the  hotel. 

"Son,"  he  said,  as  he  paid  the  driver, 
"you're  sure  cheatin'  yourself  when  you 
only  ask  eighty  cents  for  that  ride.  There 
was  eleven  dollars'  worth  of  excitement  to  it. 
There's  a  two-spot.  You  keep  the  change, 
son,  it'll  help  pay  your  funeral  expenses 
some  day;  and  if  it  ain't  mighty  soon  I  miss 
my  f  iess!" 

11        'i   -      jViijj'   *' 


WM 


iV 


i;r'- 


-'VJlOxj,. <.>.<--> 


Ill 


DAVE  had  outfitted  all  the  way 
across  the  continent,  so  to  speak, 
adding  to  liis  \vardrol>e  wherever 
they  had  stopf)ed  long  enough 
for  him  to  reach  a  store.  The  pajamas  he 
had  purchased  in  Chicago.  They  were  of 
pale  lavender  with  white  fleur-de-Us  sprin- 
kled upon  them,  and,  unfortunately,  they 
were  much  too  small.  To  see  Dave  lolling 
luxuriously  in  a  crimson  velvet  arm-chair 
attired  in  lavender  pajamas  that  threatened 
to  give  way  everj-  time  he  puffed  at  his  big, 
black  cigar  gave  the  observer  an  excellent 
idea  of  what  blonde  Odin  would  have  looked 
like  had  he  lived  today.  The  partners  were 
occupying  a  suite  of  threj  rooms,  and  when 
Wade,  his  night  attire  chastely  hidden  by  a 
dressing  gown,  joined  Dave  the  latter  gazed 
about  the  parlor  with  large  satisfaction. 

26 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Those  are  great  quarters  we've  got  here, 
boy,"  he  said.  "How  much  did  you  say 
they  was  costin'  us?" 

"Twenty-six  a  day,"  answered  Wade, 
seating  himself  (m  a  couch  and  drawing  his 
glass  toward  him.  "  About  thirty-two  times 
what  I  used  to  pay  for  my  room  in  Tellu- 
ride,  Dave." 

"Times  have  changed,  \Va<le.  I  never 
thought  two  years  ago  I'd  ever  be  doin' 
this."  He  sighed  luxuriously,  stretched 
his  long  legs  until  the  pajamas  strained  and 
waved  his  cigar  in  a  gesture  that  included 
everything  from  the  thick,  red  cari)et  to  the 
bric-a-brac  on  the  mantel. 

"  Neither  did  I, "  said  Wade.  "  Not  when 
I  was  pushing  a  shovel  for  three  dollars  a 
day. " 

"That's  right.  Funny  the  way  things 
happen,  ain't  it.'*  If  you  hadn't  dropped 
that  drunken  greaser  just  when  you  did  that 
night  in  Flannerty's  it  'd  been  all  up  with 
me,  I  reckon."  Dave  chuckled,  "I  won't 
never  for  "i  the  way  he  hit  the  wall;  thought 

27 


1^. 


/fv 


iu 


|«v-*\ 


CtTID  EN   ROITE 

he  was  goin*  clean  throu^.  I  wah  *>nu» 
relieved,  boy,  for  he  had  a  fine  drop  on  me 
an"  my  fingers  was  a  good  -jbt  innhes  from 
my  gun. " 

•*  Yes,  that  was  the  ^tart, "  mui»«»d  Wade. 
"A  couple  o(  moQtk«»  ;ift:*tr  w»»  itait.ed  out 
pro«jp*rctinj^. " 

".\ii'  ha*l  mean  lu<!k  ail  thah  -jummer. 
But  w<f  hit  it  at  lout,  ^h?  B«;y.  f.iie  B»*ttttT 
Day^  U  ifyia'  to  b*»  the  bi;ig»»st  lit.tli*  prriduir- 
er  in  Colorado  bi?t*or»t  ii>a:r. " 

"  I  tu  ^atz^jGeti  if  -ihe  pL^f:  k-iwpu  ap  httv 
pri?s»?at  i:ut. "■  joid  W,i,i,*.     ■•  ,^j^,  ^,j,^  -^^.^Utt 
piiiLz  back  tile  ^iiy  jiti^r  *:i)(nocrr:.^  .4>iii  oiiia.''"'" 
"I  i^Jt  to      ^f:nn:»f  ':vouIiiii'-  at*v»^r    iir- 
xive  me  if  I  wa*  ji^aj  *:hri*tmait.  a^r  tiie 
ki.i*  cufitiwr.     '^b^a^   I  ^yt.   piratj   to   .i,> 
out  there.     Even  d  I  iro.'-.  '  ,  -x  ■ja.v.u-lit-r 
I  wt.iii't  nitich  oii^n^'a  m^ka  it.  likn  ;w  aot. 
I  it*^  wbnw  tiiHv  V,*  lia»i  tea  iniiiies  of  ahitv 
Jj^.^<icii  IVnv^r.  xa.    clian  meaai*  iii)w  ir.in 
thr'.Mirti  :ln^  3ii;'Ujit:;i.juf.     [  r^:i£i;a.  La7!n;«v. 
AH'.iciiifr  iii.y  jt  zkin  -o^vn.  viii  :h  ici;ur  ul  l 


CI'I'II)  K\  IKH  TK        ^   CJ 

"Whal'i  the  it.itlirr?  Don't  you  like 
it?"Wa(lelauKh(t(l. 

"Oh,  I  like  it  all  riKht  cnouKli,  l»iil  I  ilon'l 
feel  to  home  hen*.  U'h  different  with  you, 
I  reckon:  you  wuh  Uini  around  here  an'  you 
savvy  the  lamlniarkN.  It*M  Mtran^e  country 
to  me  an'  I  ilon't  »|i(;ak  the  lanKwid^e.  I 
wish  you  was  goin'  back  with  me,  partner. " 

"I  guess  you'll  K«t  along  all  right.  I'll 
put  you  in  a  car  here  that  'II  take  you  right 
through  to  Chicago. " 

"That's  all  right;  I  know  the  hack-trail, 
boy.  I  was  just  thinkin'  f.hat  it's  goin'  to 
be  powerful  lonesome  out  there  this  winter. " 

"Well,  I  may  be  back  IWore  you  get  a 
chance  to  miss  me,  Dave.  It  all  deiiends. 
After  all,  there  isn't  much  to  hold  me  here 
nowadays.  When  my  folks  were  alive  it 
was  different.  I  dare  sav  a  month  or  two 
will  be  all  I'll  want." 

"Reckon  I'd  better  put  on  another  shift 
at  the  mine,"  said  Dave  with  a  twinkle  in 
his  eyes.  "Reckon  if  you're  goin'  to  stay 
two  months  here  you'll  need  a  pile  of  monev." 

2fl 


^'» 


*N 


4}J 


/ 


V 


/ 


--«> 


5^     / 


'«tiu 


^=^=5==^/: 


L 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"I  guess  I'll  have  enough  to  scrape 
through  with,"  laughed  the  other.  "I'll 
find  cheaper  lodgings  after  you  go,  old  man." 
He  was  silent  a  moment.  Dave  poured 
himself  another  drink  and  worked  the 
syphon.  "Dave,  did  you  ever  think  of 
Hving  in  Denver.''" 

"  Sure,  lots  o'  times.  But  Minnie  always 
'lows  Telluride's  good  enough  for  her,  an' 
she's  boss,  you  know.     Why,  boy?" 

"Well,  I've  been  thinking  of  it  myself. 
After  we  get  things  running  smooth  at  the 
mine  I  don't  see  why  I  couldn't,  why  we 
both  couldn't,  Dave;  that  is,  if  Minnie 
changed  her  mind. " 

"Course  we  could!  You  could,  anyway. 
Minnie  aint'  much  at  changin'  her  mind  as 
you  know.  Reckon  you'll  buy  a  smashin' 
big  house  on  Capitol  Hill  an'  make  them 
city  folks  sit  up  an'  take  notice?" 

"  Y-yes,  I  dare  say.  The  fact  is—  "  Wade 
paused  and  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe. 
"The  fact  is,  Dave,  I'm  thinking  of  getting 
married"  Dave's  glass  went  down  with  a  bang. 

30 


-.  I 


ni 


-?s**'**N 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


-■^<-')'nj.-^  ■*•> .-^       V 


"The  hell  you  say!"  ... 

Wade  nodded. 

"Why.  how  >'«'*«  ain't  never  said  nothin'  a    \  ^ 

about  th  ;i!     Didii'l  '.now  as  you  savvied        /fM)^ 
a  woman  wf  en  you  '  'S  one!"  ^:i-^/^^  •* 

"Well,  i  guc^s  it's  time,  Dave.  I'm 
thirty  years  old  and  I  guess  I've  got  enough 
now  to  keep  a  wife  on. " 

"Reckon  you  have,"  chuckled  Dave. 
"Have  you  spotted  the  lady,  boy?" 

"Yes." 

"You  have?  W^ell,  say,  you  keep  a 
pretty  close  mouth,  you  do!  Why,  I  never 
seen  you  takin'  notice  none.  'Tain't  Hutch- 
ins's  gal,  is  it?" 

"No,  it's  not  Hutchins's  girl,  Dave.  She 
lives  here  in  New  York;  at  least,  I  suppose 
she  does. " 

"Jumpin'  Jehosophat!  Don't  you  know 
where  she  lives?"  asked  Dave  bewildered- 

ly. 

"No.     Fact  is,  Dave,  I  don't  know  much        ^^^^ 
of  anything  about  her  yet;  not  even  her  vif>2  '^ 
name."    Dave  cast   a  keen   glance    from  f^OC^^f^::^ 

31 


iiiiiiipi 


1 


,'' 


.s'-^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

-^Wade  to  his  glass  and  from  the  glass  to  the 
bottle. 

"Are  you  feelin'  right  well,  Wade?"  he 
asked  solicitously.  "Ain't  feverish,  are 
you?" 

"A  little,  Dave."  Wade  arose  and  began 
to  walk  restlessly  about  the  room. 

"You  better  see  a  doctor.  I  reckon  they 
have  doctors  here,  don't  they?"  Dave  was 
plainly  anxious  and  worried. 

"A  doctor  wouldn't  help,  old  man,"  said 
Wade  with  a  rueful  smile.  "  I  'm  head  over 
heels  in  love,  Dave;  that's  what's  the  matter 
with  me.  And  I  guess  it's  worse  for  Iteing 
so  sudden. " 

"Sudden?"  echoed  the  other. 

"Yes,  darned  sudden,  old  man.  It  hap- 
pened at  about  a  quarter  past  eight  and 
it's  been  getting  rapidly  worse  ever  since. 
Look  here,  remember  that  girl  in  front  of 
the  Opera  House?  The  one  that  loafer  fell 
into?" 

"Sure!  What  about  her?" 

"Well,  she's— she's  It,  Dave." 

Si 


CIFID  EN  UOl  TE 

'You  mean— you've  gone  an'  fallen — " 

"  Fallen  with  a  thump,  old  man.     That's 
the  girl  I'm  going  to  marry,  the  Lord  wil- 
ing. 

"Phew!"  Dave  tossed  his  eigar  away 
and  felt  for  another.  Not  finding  (me  in  his 
pajamas  he  let  his  hand  fall  and  looked  help- 
lessly at  his  friend.  "You  mean  to  tell  me, 
boy,  that  you're  in  love  with  that  girl?" 
I  sure  am ! 

"An' — an'  you  don't  know  her?  Not 
even  her  name?" 

"  No,  I  never  saw  her  until  tonight. " 

"Then — then — why,  damn  it.  Wade,  you 
can't  go  to  a  theatre  jsn'  pick  out  the  pretti- 
est gal  there  an' — an'  marry  her!" 

"Why  can't  I?"  asked  Wade  calmly. 

"Why — ^because — how  do  you  know  she'll 
have  you?" 

"Why  not?  I'm  all  right,  ain't  I?  :'m 
not  deformed  and  I  'm  average  good-looking 
and  I  've  got  plenty  of  money.  My  family's 
as  good  as  there  is  in  New  York  State  and 
we've  none  of  us  been  hanged.     I  don't  say 

33 


jZ^-.-. 


i"-  It. 


f),.:  4ii^^;< 


S.'--;^ 


•  'piiy* 


^^-cr^J-^'"^  •■-"■■■■mi 


-^.: 


"-Ci* 


ciPiD  EN  roi:tf 


I:.'! 


_         \ 


J--K 


>,  ■( 


X    1;  J 


r 


she  will  take  me,  Dave,  but  she  a  sure  goin^ 
to  have  the  chance!" 

'*  Well,  I  '11  be —  "  Dave  gulped  and  looked 
at  his  partner  in  wondering  admiration. 
'"Wade,  you're  sure  a  wonder!  Do  you— 
do  you  mean  it?" 

"I  never  meant  anything  any  more," 
replied  Wade  quietly  aa  he  refilled  hia  pipe. 
"  I  'm  going  to  tind  out  who  she  is.  where  she 
lives.  Then  I  "m  going  to  get  acquainted 
with  her  and  <M)nvin<?e  her  that  I'm  the 
chap  she  wants. " 

"Sounds  easy,  the  way  you  tell  it."  said 
Dave  dubiously.  "But  you  never  can  tell 
ab4>ut  a  female.  Wade.  Still- —  "  He  began 
to  pat  himself  in  his  sean:h  for  a  oigar. 
Wade  tosseti  him  one  from  the  mantel. 
"Still."  he  went  on  as  he  bit  otf  the  end  ot' 
it,  "  I  ain't  sa}.-in'  yixi  won't  do  it.  h«.^y.  I " ve 
known  you  three  years  an"  I  <Ion't  recoilet^t 
as  how  you  ever  set  out  to  do  a  thing  without 
you  done  it.  I  ain't  nev^r  see  vi.hi  make 
love  to  a  gal.  hut  if  you  oan  talk  to  "em  like 
\ou.  taike^i  ti.->  that  teller  in  Denver  when 

•■34 


-:i 


'-^-"•V, 


,^:/r^^'-^r^  ^^.^i 


?^<v♦' 


J 


CUPID  KN  IU)1  TE 

you   made  him   stake  us  to  that  develop-   .  ;!:  v"A^    ^"^'^ 
nient  loan,  why,  that  pd  ain't  ^ot  no  more  ^\    \k^ 

show  against  yon  than  an  ieiele  has  in  hell!"  /u   KI 

"The  trouhh'  is,  it  isn't  all  talk,"  mused         ^  IfJl^ 
Wad<'.  ■""     ^ 

"Ain't  it?  Well,  talk  rck's  a  long  way 
with  the  wonxui,  hoy.  I  know  that  much, 
an'  I  ain't  no  Don  Jewan,  neither.  Tell 
you  what  I'll  do.  Wade.  I'll  bet  you  a 
thousand  dollars  you  win!" 

"I'd  rather  not  het  on  this,"  answered 
the  other  with  a  smile.  "  But  if  I  do  win, 
Dave,  you  can  sink  some  of  that  thousand 
in  a  wedding  pres«;nl." 

"You  het  I  will,  hoy!  I'll  get  you  the 
biggest,  high-toniest  gold  water-pitcher  there 
is  in  Denver — or  anything  else  the  lady 
might  prefer!  There's  one  thing,  though, 
you  ain't  considerin',  boy." 

"What's  that?" 

"Why,  how  do  you  know  the  lady  ain't 
married  already?" 

"Married!"  Wade's  jaw  dropped  and  he 
looked  blank  for  a  moment. 

35 


^:)r 


-5;     1 J 


I 


L^* 


\>/^^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Didn't  think  of  that?"  queried  Dave. 
"No,  I  didn't.     But— oh,  hang  it,  man, 
she  can't  be  married!    How  could  she  be? 
What  makes  you  think  she  is?" 
"I  don't.     I  just  said  supposin'. " 
"Of  course  she  isn't,"  said  Wade  self- 
convincingly.     "Why,  she  didn't  look  mar- 
ried!" 

"Well,  I  reckon  some  of  'em  don't  in  this 
country,"  answered  Dave  sagely.  "An' 
what's  more  a  heap  of  'em  don't  act  married. 
I  ain't  sayin'  you  ain't  right,  boy,  an'  I  hope 
you  are.  Only— well,  say,  now,  I'd  find 
out  about  that  before  I  made  myself  any 
more  promises. " 

"It's  kind  of  late  already,"  said  Wade 
with  a  scowl.  "I— I'm  in  pretty  deep,  old 
man.     If  she  is  married — " 

"Yes?"  asked  Dave  encouragingly. 
Wade  laughed  mirthlessly. 
"Well,  in  that  case,  old  man,  I  guess 
you'll  see  me  back  at  Lone   Mesa   damn 
soon. " 

"Well,  well,  I  reckon  there's  a  heap  more 

36 


-4-  --'" 


:>^:>'-rr> 


x= 


IH 


>^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

good-lookers  in  this  town,  boy.     Don't  you 
bedis— " 

"There's  only  one  of  Her,  Dave  and  she's 
the  only  one  I  want.  And,  by  the  Eternal, 
I  mean  to  have  her!  Oh,  I  know  it  sounds 
crazy,  old  man;  I  guess  I  am  crazy — sort  of. 
It's  certainly  got  me  in  a  heap.  I  never  was 
in  love  before,  you  see;  only  once  when  I 
was  a  kid  in  college,  and  that  didn't  count 
for  a  danm.  I've  always  thought  men  were 
weak  and  silly  when  they  lost  their  heads 
over  women,  but  now — well,  I  know  better. 
Vxe  lost  mine,  all  right — and  my  grip,  too, 
I  guess.  That  suggestion  of  yours  about 
her  being  married  has  sort  of  floored  me, 
Dave." 

He  sank  onto  a  chair  and  knotted  his 
hands  nervously,  his  pipe  hanging  forgotten 
from  the  corner  of  his  mouth. 

"Hell!"  said  Dave.  "What's  the  use  of 
worry  in'  about  that  until  you  know?  Buck 
up,  boy!    I  don't  reckon  she's  married." 

"Maybe— it  won't  matter— if  she  is," 
muttered  Wade. 

37 


c  ' ' 


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N> 


-./if  A 


X- 


r\ 


'f*4'.f 


■\\ 


,\ 


) 


CUPID  EX  ROUTE 

"Now,  now,  you  don't  mean  that!"  Dave 
shook  his  head  slowly.  "  Don't  go  to  sayin' 
things  you  don't  mean.  You  ain't  the  man 
to  go  an'  jump  another  feller's  claim,  boy. 
I  know  you  better'n  that.  Here,  fill  vour 
glass  an'  we'll  drink  to  it." 

Dave  stood  up  and  held  his  glass  out. 

"Ready.'  Here's  hopin'.  boy.  GfxJ  bless 
you  I"  he  said  eamestlv.  "Here's  that  ^ou 
win." 


:J^ 


IV 


BY  iiiiu'  o'chu'k  tlu'  lU'Xt  inorning 
Wado  was  in  possessicm  of  all  I  he 
iiiforiiiatiot)  to  lie  ohtaiiied  at  the 
o|M'ra  hous«'.  The  hox  was  rented 
by  Miss  M.  F.  IVarse,  who  lived  a  few  doors 
from  the  Avenne  on  West  Fifty-third  Stnn't. 
Wude  made  a  note  of  the  name  and  the 
house  number,  thanked  his  informant  and 
went  baek  to  the  hotel  to  eonsi<ler  liis  next 
step.  Dave  had  intrust<'<l  himself  to  a 
hansom  and  had  ji;'»ne  off  down  town  to  buy 
presents  for  Minnie  and  tin*  eliildn-n.  So 
Wade  had  opportunity  for  undisturlx'd 
reflection.  By  noon  he  had  smoked  up  a 
good  deal  of  tobaeeo  but  had  evolve<l  no 
method  of  discovering  tlu*  identity  of  the 
young  la(i.>  save  tliat  of  applying  to  Miss 
Pearse,  and  this  morning,  with  the  white 
light  of  a  Winter  day  flooding  the  room,  lie 

realized    the    preposterousness    of    such    a 

39 


CUPID  EX  ROUTE 


course.  It  occurred  to  him,  now  that  it  was 
too  late,  that  what  he  should  have  done  was 
to  have  noted  the  num^ier  of  the  electric 
brougham  in  which  the  party  had  left  the 
opera  house,  discovered  the  chauffeur  and 
obtained  his  information  from  him.  But 
that  chance  was  lost  to  him  and  it  really 
seemed  that  he  would  have  to  call  at  the 
house  on  West  Fifty-third  Street  and.  on 
one  pretext  or  another,  find  out  what  he 
wanted  from  Miss  Pearse  It  was  pc-ssible 
that  the  elderly  lady  and  the  girl  were 
relations,  although  he  ci>uldn"t  recall  any 
resemblance  of  features,  in  which  case  it 
might  \)e  further  possible  that  they  lived 
together.  On  the  whole,  however,  he  was 
inclined  to  think  that  one  of  the  other 
women  was  the  girl's  mother  and  that  she 
and  Miss  Pearse  were  merely  frien<is. 

He  tried  to  tliink  of  a  plausible  storj,-  to  tell 
Miss  Pearse.  It  would  hartlly  do  to  hand 
her  his  card  and  say  "  Madam.  I  am  in  love 
with  a  young  lady  who  sat  in  your  box  at 
the  opera  Thursdav  nigiit.  and  I  sJiall  be 

44) 


!i 


CUPID  KN  HOI  TK 

greatly  ohiiKcd  if  you  will  inform  nn*  of  Hit 
name  and  a«l<lri*«M. "  II*'  ntrovi'  to  r^-all 
th<'  f<?w  tU'.U'cl'wf  Mtori<*H  he.  had  i  'ail  ami 
wonderi'd  what  SlufrUK-k  Ilolrii«*s  would  do 
under  like  eircrumstances.  lie  rni^lit,  he 
suppcwtnl,  proclaim  himsi'lf  a  eensUM  laker 
or  the  a^ent  for  a  dirertorj',  but  if  the  ffirl 
didn't  live  at  the  Fifty-third  Street  residence 
that  wouldn't  answer.  He  was  still  cud- 
geling his  hrains  when  Dave  returned, 
followefl  by  a  page  with  his  arms  full  of 
packages. 

"Boy,"  he  said  when  the  paj.'e  had  littered 
table  and  chairs  with  the  parcels  and  taken 
his  departure,  "I've  lK**'n  havin'  one  great 
time  I  Reckon  I'll  have  to  ^o  back  this 
afternoon  an'  Vjuy  me  a  new  trunk.  Just 
look  a'  here.  Wade,"  He  U'j?an  to  pull  the 
wrappings  off  and  display  his  treasures. 
"That's  for  the  Missis,"  he  explained, 
shaking  a  crimson  flannel  wrapfK-r  at  Wade. 
"Warm!  Feel  of  it!  An'  just  throw  your 
optics  on  this,  tx*y.  Sewin'  s*'t,  s<:iss4^*rs, 
two  pair  of  'em,  big  an'  littU-,  thread,  all 


^^;A- 


~y 


i 
y 


•"V^ 


\i 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


"s.. 


iJ 


sorts  an*  colors;  darnin'  cotton;  thimble, 
V  real  solid  silver;  needle-case;  damin'  ball  to 
stick  in  the  toe  of  a  stockin',  you  know; 
that  handle's  silver,  too;  forget  what  the 
gal  called  them  things,  bubkins,  I  think  it 
was.  Feel  that  plush!  Ain't  that  great? 
Reckon  that's  goin'  some  for  Lone  Mesa! 
An*  wait  till  I  show  you  the  toys  for  the 
kids;  I  got  enough  to  stock  a  toy -store; 
paint-box  for  MoUie,  doll — see  the  darn  cute 
little  thing  open  it's  eyes,  will  you?  Listeu ! 
Hear  that?  ' Monimer/ just  as  plain !  Stick 
your  finger  there  nnd  see.  Ain't  that  foxy? 
That's  a  box  of  dishes  no  bigger  'n  your 
thumb.  An'  here's  a  knife  for  Davy  an' 
a  soldier  suit — cap  an'  all.  What  they 
don't  think  of  for  kids  ain't  much,  I  'm  tell- 
in'  you,  partner.  Why,  blame  me  if  I 
wasn't  most  wishin'  I  was  a  kid  myself 
when  I  got  up  there  with  all  them  toys! 
An'  look  here!  What  do  you  think  o'  that, 
eh?  Ain't  that  cunnin'?  An' here — "  He 
fished  around  in  his  pockets  and  finally 
brought  out  a  tiny  package  which  he  thrust 

42 


CUPID  EN  ROUlii 


in  Wade's  hand.  "  I  got  that  for  you,  boy. 
It  ain't  much ;  just  a  pin  for  your  tie.  Reck- 
on you  might's  well  have  it  now. " 

It  was  rather  atrocious,  but  Wade  thank- 
ed him  very  sincerely  and  tried  the  effect 
then  and  there,  Dave  standing  off  and 
viewing  the  result  critically. 

"That  ain't  so  bad,  is  it?  J  see  it  in  a 
window  down  on  that  Sixth  Avenue  an'  I 
says  to  myself  'That's  just  the  pin  for 
Wade,  kind  o'  tony  an'  swell.'  The  feller 
swore  them  was  real  diamonds,  partner, 
but  I  got  my  doubts  about  'em.  It's  a  real 
handsome  pin,  though,  ain't  it?" 

"It's  stunning,  Dave,"  answered  Wade. 
"And  if  they're  not  real  diamonds  they  look 
Hke  them.  Much  obliged,  old  man.  I'm 
going  to  put  it  aside  until  Christmas,  though. 
I  never  li.  d  to  wear  my  presents  before- 
hand." 

"Course  not.  Well,  say,  I'm  so  darned 
hungry  I  could  eat  raw  dog.  Reckon  the 
dining  room's  open?" 

"It's  always  open,  Dave." 

4S 


Vi,. 


-'  ..t  -•■•) 


■  >:- « 


=\- 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 
'It  is 5    Think  o'  that!    Eat  whenever 


v^^you  like,  can  you?     Well,  how  you  feelin' 


about  it  now?    Readv  to  feed?" 

At  luncheon  Wade  confided  his  perplexi- 
ties to  Dave  and  they  talked  the  matter 
over  from  soup  to  coffee  without  finding  a 
solution.  Afterwards  Dave  insisted  that 
Wade  should  go  down  town  with  him  and 
assist  in  the  purchase  of  a  gown  for  Minnie 
that  should  be  as  near  as  possible  like  the 
one  which  Dave  had  admired  the  evening 
before  at  the  opera.  "One  o'  them  genuine 
red  ones,  boy,  that  there  ain't  no  mistakin'. 
Minnie's  almighty  fond  o'  red.  I  don't 
mind  buyin  toys  and  such  things,  but 
women's  things  is  different.  Them  gals  in 
the  stores  is  as  haughty  as  biscuit-shooters; 
all  dressed  in  black  silk,  with  about  a  million 
dollars  worth  o'  hair  on  their  heads.  They 
got  a  way  o'  lookin'  at  you,  sort  o'  high  an' 
mighty,  that  makes  you  feel  like  a  hunk  o' 
'dobe;  leastwise,  that's  the  way  it  makes 
me  feel,  partner.  I  reckon  you've  had  more 
experience  with  'em.     Anyhow,  you  can  be 

44 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE        ^ 

just  as  haughty  as  they  can.  Me,  I  want 
to  kiss  'em  or  slap  'em,  I  don't  know  which. 
Them  stores  ain't  no  proper  place  for  a  weak 
an'  defenceless  male  man. " 

So  Wade,  with  a  regretful  thought  for 
his  real  mission  in  life,  which  was  the  dis- 
covery of  the  girl  in  the  blue  gown,  con- 
sented, and  they  climbed  into  a  hansom 
and  set  off  down  Broadway. 

It  was  four  days  to  Christmas,  and  New 
York's  shopping  district  was  a  seething 
cauldron  of  breathless,  frantic,  maddened 
humanity.  Christmas  was  in  the  air;  the 
cross-town  thoroughfares  were  lined  with 
hawkers  of  mechanical  toys,  wreaths  and 
greens;  the  shop  windows  would  have 
tempted  a  miser  to  extravagance;  the  flower 
stores  mingled  holly  and  mistletoe  with 
priceless  orchids  and  semi-priceless  roses; 
Santa  Claus  rang  his  bell  on  almost  every 
corner;  in  short  the  Spirit  of  the  Holidays 
had  the  great  city  in  its  grasp.  There 
was  a  frosty  nip  in  the  air  and  the  leaden 
sky  threatened  snow. 

45 


.-/*;?■- 
^^'"' 

~T~  "*'('' 


Wtr\:^ 


i\ 


f! 


'^*"^  '."1. 


I,  I' 


ii 


;'  i 


/ 


.4     ' 


^■■!^^. 


■■\ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

To  follow  Wade  and  Dave  in  their  search 
for  the  red  gown  would  be  amusing  but 
unnecessary.  They  found  it  at  last  after 
several  defeats.  When  Dave  learned  the 
price  he  gasped  with  amazement.  But  he 
was  game,  and  after  the  subject  of  size  had 
been  threshed  out,  the  gown  was  paid  for 
and  the  saleswoman  was  instructed  to  send 
it  to  the  hotel.  They  decided  to  return 
uptown  on  foot,  and  so  crossed  to  the  Avenue 
and  turned  northward  with  the  throng. 
Dave  was  out  of  cigars  and  when  he  spied 
a  tiny  tobacco  shop  sandwiched  in  between 
a  florist's  and  a  big  marble-fronted  jewelrj- 
emporium  he  made  for  it.  Wade  remained 
outside  and  sauntered  along  to  the  big  plate- 
glass  show  window  behind  which  was  dis- 
played a  gold-plated  dinner  service.  Dave 
rejoined  him  in  a  moment,  stuffing  big  black 
cigars  into  his  pocket.  Wade  accepted  one 
and  Ughted  it.  Then  they  turned  to  resume 
their  northward  progress.  And  at  that 
moment  Fate  took  a  hand  again. 

"Wait I"    exclaimed    Wade.     He   pulled 

46 


<'^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

Dave  back  against  the  window.  A  taxicab 
had  stopped  in  front  of  the  entrance  and 
the  carriage  man,  a  gorgeous,  six-foot 
dignitary,  was  helping  the  single  passenger 
to  alight.  Wade's  grasp  on  his  companion's 
arm  tightened  until  the  latter  squirmed. 
"What's  the  matter,  boy.''"  he  growled. 
"  Look !  There  she  is  now !  See,  Dave?  " 
She  had  paused  to  give  a  direction  to  the 
driver.  A  long  coat  of  black  fur  and  a  hat 
of  the  same  somber  material  relieved  by  a 
single  gold  aigrette  was  too  much  of  a  (\\h- 
guise  for  Dave  to  penetrate  at  3rst.  But 
when  the  chauffeur  had  touchetJ  his  cap 
sket chilly  and  the  girl  had  turned  toward 
the  store  he  recognized  her.  The  clear  face 
showed  forth  from  its  dark  setting  like  a 
blush  rose  and  the  deep  violet  eyes  sparkled 
with  the  excitement  of  Christmas  shopping. 
As  she  passed  the  two  men  at  a  distance  of 
a  half-dozen  feet  her  glance  lifted  and  swept 
them.  A  Uttle  flash  of  recognition  Ughted 
her  face.  Then  with  something  that  just 
escaped  being  a  smile  she  turned  her  gaze 

47 


y 


•> 


^5" 


\t 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

and  passed  through   the  revolving  doors 
Wade  drew  the  deep  breath  of  a  man  re- 
gaining coneiousness. 

"That's  her,  boy  I"  whispered  Dave 
hoarsely.     **Now*s  your  chance!" 

But  Wade  didn't  move.  He  was  watching 
the  taxi  turn  and  cros»  the  street  to  take  its 
place  in  the  waiting  line  at  the  opposite  curb. 

"Ain't  you  goin'  to  chase  after  her?" 
demanded  Dave  disappointedly. 

"  I  *m  going  to  talk  to  that  taxicab  driver 
first,"  was  the  reply.  "You  stay  here  and 
watch  for  her."  He  hurried  away,  dodged 
across  the  Avenue  at  the  risk  of  his  life  and 
accosted  the  driver. 

''You  just  left  a  lady  at  the  jeweler's. 
Where  did  you  get  her?  "  He  pulled  a  roll 
of  bilb  from  his  pocket  and  peeled  otf  the 
bottom  one  without  glancing  at  it.  The 
chauffeur,  however,  was  more  particular. 
He  read  its  denomination  at  a  glance, 
removed  his  cap  and  read  from  the  yellow 
slip  inside.     The  address  he  gave  was  tlie 

Pearse  residence. 

48 


^-V. 


CI  I'll)  EN  ROl  TK 


"Do  you  know  who  siic  is?"  asked 
Wade  eagerly.  "Do  you  know  her 
name.'' 

"No,  I  never  saw  her  l)efor<%  sir.  I  nev<*r 
went  to  that  address  Ix'fore.  They  Ich*- 
phoned  to  the  garage  and  1  was  sent  up 
there.  The  lady  got  in  and  told  n«e  to  bring 
her  here.     That's  all  I  know,  sir. " 

"Thank  you."  Wade  hand<'d  over  the 
bill.     "  A  Merrj' Christmas. " 

The  chauffeur  touched  his  cap.  "Same 
to  you,  sir. " 

Wade  hurried  back  to  Dave. 
'Seen  her?"  he  asked. 
Nor  hide  nor  hair,"   answered    Dave. 
"What  did  you  find  out?" 

"She  came  from  that  house  on  Fifty-third 
Street.  She  must  live  there,  I  guess. 
Maybe  she's  the  old  lady's  niece. " 

"Well,  what  you  goin'  to  do  now?" 

Wade  frownefl  undecidedly,  rtching  the 
store  entrance. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  answered  finally. 
"If  I  go  in  there  and  find  her  it  won't  do 

49 


<(  - 


f-  * 


]' 


'/4  --^ 


irj 


\  ' 


/ 


//■  /^ 


'J 


^-JJ    ' 


4V' 


/ 


M^l 


y. 


/ 


/ 


<^-.>'" 


-i^^m^' 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


me  any   ^ood,  Dave.     I — I  couldn't  just 
go  up  and  speak  to  her. " 

"Why  not?" 

"I  don't  know  her." 

"Course  you  don't.  But  you  never  will 
if  you  don't  begin,  boy.  Now  you  go  an' 
find  her  an'  speak  right  up.  Tell  her  you 
like  her  looks  an'  if  she  ain't  got  no  objec- 
tion you'd  like  to  call  an'  see  her. " 

Wade  laughed  ruefully.  "They  don't 
do  things  that  way  here,  old  man.  I've 
got  to  find  a  smoother  way  than  that,  I 
guess."  His  wandering  gaze  encountered 
the  gorgeous  window  of  the  florist's  shop. 

"  You  stay  here  and  watch,  Dave.  I  '11  he 
back  in  a  minute. " 

He  hurried  into  the  florist's.  "I  want 
some  roses,  please,  in  a  hurry;  American 
Beauties,  I  guess. " 

"Yes,  sir;  twelve,  fifteen  and  twenty  a 
dozen,  sir. " 

"Twenty." 

"A  dozen,  sir?" 

"Two — ^no,   three.     And   hurry.     Never 
50 


■f  -■ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

mind  a  box.  Just  put  'em  in  a  paper." 
He  went  to  the  door  and  watched  the  side- 
walk in  front  of  the  jeweler's.  The  man  was 
disgustingly  slow,  but  finally  the  great 
bundle  was  ready  and  paid  for  and  Wade 
was  again  dodging  the  traflSe  of  the  street. 
The  taxicab  was  still  in  line.  Wade  opened 
the  door  and  laid  the  yard-long  bundle  on 
the  seat.  The  chauffeur  watched  with 
expressionless  face. 

"If  the  lady  asks  any  questions  you  don't 
know  a  thing,"  said  Wade.  The  chauffeur 
smiled  the  ghost  of  a  smile  as  he  touched 
his  cap  again. 

"Not  a  thing,  sir,"  he  answered. 

Wade  returned  to  his  post  outside  the 
door.  "If  you'd  rather  not  wait,  old  man, " 
he  said,  "you  go  on  and  I'll  find  you  at  the 
hotel."     But  Dave  shook  his  head. 

"  Hell,  I  don't  mind  waitin', "  he  answered 
cheerfully.  "There's  plenty  to  see,  boy. 
What  you  writin'?" 

"Just  making  a  note  of  that  fellow's 
number   and    the    number   of   the    taxi," 

51 


Ixin 


■W 


i  V. 


?!/■ 


!«  t 


X. 


/7 


», 

^y 


i' 


-^- 


■>•, 

'/■■"n; 


-^ 


o 

yi 


CUPID  EN  aoUTE 

^we^  W,^e  muming  hi.  book  to  hi. 
P^ket.       I  don't  mtend  to  .Up  up  thi. 

"Well,  that  ain't  the  way  I'd  do  it  " 
r^r-    "I-OputitHghtuptoh^. 

"Yes,  and  as  like  as  not  she'd  call  the 
store  detective  and  have  me  put  out.    I 

eke  I  11  be  queered  at  the  start.    She  must 
be  buymg  everything  in  there. " 

tn?  T,  l^u*r^  ^^^i^^'  ^'^^  *^«  "«^t«  began 
to  flash  forth  from  the  windows  up  and  down 

the  Avenue.    And  then,  at  last,  she  appear 
ed  steppmg  hthefuUy  through  the  entrance 
without  a  glance  to  left  or  right. 

"Ain't  she  a  winner!"  whispered  Dave 
wondermgly.  "Boy.  she  certainly  would 
make  a  hell  of  a  splash  back  in  Telluride' 
BiU,  say .  she  didn't  buy  a  dam  thing ' " 

The  carriage  man  was  shrilling  his  whistle 
and  overhead  the  signal  flashed  her  number. 
The  gu-l  stood  at  one  side  of  the  entrance 
waiting,   apparently  quite   unconsciousof 

5i 


'      X       ( 


A 


>;  y.' 


'    S»«TCR   Li 


N«.OiK  ■  C 


"the  roses  nodded  and  kecked  as  he 

STROVE    TO    TorcH    HIS    CAP  " 


if 

'  i 

■I 


i 


I 
I 

i 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

the  many  faces  that  turned  to  stare  curious 
ly,  admiringly,  impertinently.  ( 

"Now's  your  chance,"  whispered  Dave. 
"Butt  in,  partner!" 

But  Wade  only  looked  while  the  taxi 
rolled  to  the  curb  and  the  attendant  helpetl 
her  in.  Then  the  girl's  face  appeared  at 
the  door  and  the  attendant  bent  forward. 
Something  white  moved  into  view.  The 
attendant  spoke  to  the  chauffeur  and  the 
latter  left  his  seat  and  went  to  the  door. 
Wade  saw  him  shake  his  head  and  look 
blank.  A  sheet  of  white  paper  fluttered 
out  and  blew  along  the  curb.  An  impatient 
tooting  from  a  big  limousine  behind  recalled 
the  carriage  man  to  his  duties.  He  waved 
the  chauffeur  back  to  his  seat.  Then  from 
the  depths  of  the  cab  appeared  a  great 
bunch  of  roses,  its  wrappings  fluttering 
about  it,  and  settled  in  the  carriage  man's 
arms.  He  moved  back,  the  roses  nodded 
and  becked  as  he  strove  to  touch  his  cap, 
the  door  banged  shut  and  the  taxicab  sprang 
away  from  the  curb  with  a  warning  toot. 

53 


/ 


/ 


1 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

But  as  it  moved  forward  the  girl's  face  and 
the  upper  part  of  her  body  appeared  for  a 
moment  at  the  glass.  Her  eyes  swept  the 
sidewalk  hurriedly,  met  Wade's  eyes  start- 
ledly  and  comprehendingly  and  were  quick- 
ly flashed  away.  But  Wade  ha<l  caught 
more  than  the  glance.  He  had  caught  in 
that  brief  instant  the  carmine  blur  of  a  rose 
against  the  black  fur  of  the  coat! 

What  did  he  care  that  the  carriage  man 
was  standing  there  foolishly  clasping  thirty- 
five  American  Beauties  to  his  gold-trimmed 
uniform?  The  thirty -sixth  was  nestled  un- 
der the  chin  of  the  girl  he  loved ! 


!!/■  1% 


54 


•■*■ --_ 

i 

Tf, 

t 

** ' 

1 

.U< 

DAVE  had  not  seen  Wade  put  the 
roses  in  the  cab  and  the  incident 
enf^aged  his  curiosity  all  the  rest 
of  the  way  to  the  hotel,  for  Wade 
didn't  think  it  necessary  to  enlighten  him. 
That  evening  they  went  to  a  theatre  and 
Dave  found  the  entertainment  more  to  his 
liking.  Vocally,  Lew  Fields  wasn't  Renaud's 
equal;  nor  in  similar  comparison  could  Miss 
Ada  Lewis  be  said  to  rival  Miss  Cavalieri; 
but  as  entertainers  Dave  maintained  the 
Fields-Lewis  combination  to  be  far  ahead. 
"Course  I  know,"  he  said,  "that  this 
here  show  tonight  ain't  high-class  like  that 
opera,  but  it  suits  me  a  sight  better,  partner. 
I  reckon  my  tastes  is  sort  o'  punk,  eh? 
That  darned  Dutchman  certainly  is  funny, 
though,  ain't  he?  I  ain't  laughed  so  much 
since  I  bit  my  tongue!" 

55 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


' 


Wade  was  less  interested  in  the  perform- 
ance than  in  the  audience.  There  was  the 
possibiUty  that  the  girl  might  be  there,  and 
although  he  failed  to  see  her  there  were 
several  breathless  moments  when  the  curve 
of  a  cheek  or  the  shape  of  a  brown  head 
deceived  him.  Afterwards,  when  they  walk- 
ed up  Broadway  under  the  flaring  white 
lights,  his  eyes  were  busy  every  instant 
searching  the  throngs,  peering  into  cabs  and 
carriages  in  the  hope  of  finding  her.  His 
heart  sang  happily,  for  at  any  instant  he 
might  find  himself  face  to  face  with  her. 
It  was  only  when  they  reached  Rector's 
that  he  gave  up  hoping.  He  had  telephoned 
earUer  in  the  evening  for  a  table  and  the 
fact  that  their  leisurely  walk  from  the 
theatre  had  made  them  late  gave  the  thin 
cadaverous  captain  an  opportunity  that  he 
didn't  intend  to  miss.  He  seated  them 
impressively  and  presented  the  menu  cards 
with  his  best  flourishes. 

"You  came  very  near  losing  this  table, 
sir,"  he  confided  to  Wade  as  he  prepared 

56 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


; 


to  take  the  order.  "The  head  wanted  to 
take  it,  but  I  held  onto  it,  sir.  I  didn't 
know  what  Mr.  Forbes  it  was—"  He 
paused  interrogatively.  Wade  smiled  and 
handed  him  a  two  dollar  bill. 

"Thanks,  captain.  It's  Mr.  Forbes  of 
Lone  Mesa.     Don't  forget." 

"  No,  sir.  Thank  you,  sir.  Mr.  Forbes  of 
Longacre.  Very  good,  sir.  And  what  will 
you  order,  sir.'>  The  caviare  Astrikan  is 
very  nice,  sir. " 

"Want  some  caviare  Astrikan,  Dave.^" 
inquired  Wade  gravely. 

"Hu     " 

"No,  we'll  pas<  that  up,  I  think,"  said 
W'ade.  "My  friend's  a  vegetarian.  Bring 
two  cups  of  gumbo,  four  French  chops  with 
peas,  an  order  of  celery,  asparagus — hot 
with  French  dressing — ,  two  demi-tasse, 
toasted  crackers  and  Camembert. " 

The  captain  pursed  his  lips. 

"I  wouldn't  advise  the  Camembert,  Mr, 
Forbes.     It's  out  of  season* " 


37 


{ 


i 


i  ./ 


J. 


J 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Is  it?    Close  season  on  Camembert,  eh? 
Well,  make  it  Roquefort,  then." 
"And  what  will  you  drink,  sir?" 
"A  quart  of  Pol  Roger.     I'll  leave  the 
vintage  to  you. " 

"Thank  you,  sir.     Ninety -eight,  sir." 
When  the  waiter  had  taken  himself  away, 
Dave,  who  had  been  surveying  the  scene 
with  much  interest,  said: 

"Wade,  reckon  that  gal's  here?" 
"Not  likely,"  answered  Wade,  suppress- 
ing a  smile.     "This  is  hardly  the  place  to 
find  her,  Dave." 

"Ain't  it?  Why  not?"  Wade  explained 
and  Dave's  interest  in  the  people  about  him 
perceptibly  increased.  Wade  didn't  eat 
much  of  that  supper,  but  his  companion  did 
full  justice  to  it.  Between  courses  his 
attention  reverted  to  a  young  woman  at  a 
neighboring  table,  and  finally  his  curiosity 
found  voice. 

"I  reckon  the  women  here  ain't  all  like 
that,  W^ade?" 

"Like  what?"  asked  Wade  absently. 
58 


i 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"  Well,  like  what  you  said.  Now  that  gal 
over  there,  reckon  she's  all  right,  don't  you? 
Never  saw  one  that  looked  more  innocent 
in  my  life,  boy. " 

Wade  studied  the  girl  in  question  a  mo- 
ment. She  was  dressed  expensively  but 
quietly.  A  sealskin  coat  draped  the  chair 
behind  her  and  a  toque  of  the  same  material 
nestled  against  her  dark  hair.  The  face 
beneath  was  that  of  a  pale  Madonna,  with 
wide,  wondering,  brown  eyes,  hung  with 
heavy  lashes.  Her  table  companions  were 
three  middle-aged  men,  blas6,  weary-eyed. 
Their  waiter  was  pouring  the  second  bottle 
of  champagne.  Wade  shrugged  his  should- 
ers gravely. 

"Rather  too  innocent,  isn't  she,  Dave?" 
he  asked. 

"Reckon  that's  what's  been  worryin' 
me, "  said  Dave  with  relief.  "  She  looks  too 
much  like  the  hound-dog  after  he'd  et  the 
chicken.  Still— I  dunno,  partner.  She's  a 
mighty  nice  lookin'  gal. " 

But  presently  the  nice  looking  girl  forgot 
59 


-«<»» 


■^1 1 


'^\ 


-■^^, 


4\ 


^' 


'^'    /\ 


r- 


-^^ 


\  1 


T^^W. 


-  X  \ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

I  her  Madonna  pose  and  sprinkled  the  shirt- 
front  of  the  man  on  her  right  with  wine. 
The  man  didn't  take  the  pleasantry  kindly 
.and  during  the  ensuing  exchange  of  compli- 
ments the  Madonna  used  words  that  made 
Dave  squirm  uncomfortably  in  his  chair. 
He  looked  across  and  found  Wade  smiling 
at  his  discomfiture. 

"Boy,  I  reckon  I'm  a  darned  tenderfoot 
around  these  diggins, "  he  said  with  a  shake 
of  his  head. 

It  x>as  their  last  evening  together  and 
they  prolonged  tlieir  stay  at  the  little  wall 
table  until  the  room  was  nearly  empty  and 
the  orchestra  had  gone  and  the  yawning 
waiters  had  begun  to  pile  the  chairs.  Then 
they  crossed  the  quiet,  deserted  square  to 
the  hotel  and  sought  their  rooms,  Dave 
somewhat  saddened  by  champagne  and  dis- 
illusionment. 

"Reckon  that  sort  of  thing  goes  on  here 
every  night,"  he  said,  waving  his  cigar 
in  the  general  direction  of  the  restau- 
rant. 


60 


\ 


1       7    ;      /•       f       f 


i.39^«.»^v 


Ai 


^:-  -- 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Three  hundred  and  sixty-five  nights  a 
year,  Dave." 

"This  is  a  hell  of  a  burg,"  said  Dave  dis- 
gustedly. "Blowin'  in  money,  drinkin' 
champagne,  fussin'  with  women!  I  reckon 
I'm  glad  I  don't  have  to  live  here,  boy. " 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  judge  New  York  by 
what  you've  seen  of  her,  Dave.  That's 
only  one  side,  and  the  worst;  the  side  we 
tenderfeet  see  when  we  come  here.  There's 
a  couple  of  miUion  decent,  quiet,  every-day 
folks  Hving  decent,  quiet,  every-day  lives 
in  this  town,  Dave.  Only  we  don't  rub  up 
against  'em,  old  man. " 

"That's  so,"  answered  Dave  thought- 
fully. "I  reckon  there's  folks  here  goes  to 
bed  at  ten  o'clock  and  eats  hash  for  dinner. 
Boy,  that's  a  cheerin'  thought." 

In  spite  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour  Wade 
stayed  awake  for  a  good  hour  after  his  head 
reached  the  pillow,  his  mind  occupied  with 
the  problem  of  securing  an  acquaintance 
with  the  girl  in  the  box.  And  before  he 
went  to  sleep  he  had  decided  on  a  course  of 


61 


■^-.    ,  «,i*- 


X. 


P 


I 


1 


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V   I 


\  i 


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...  \ 

A// 


5  \'\ 


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\ 


,  » 


^i>Ai 


r~^ 


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1.  ^ --.-:- — 


w 


7        ^ 


i 


^^^.- 


NW 


^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

action.  He  knew  just  three  persons  in  New 
York;  an  elderly  lawyer  who  had  been  a 
friend  of  his  father's,  a  class-mate  of  his 
own  at  college  who  was  teaching  at  Columbia 
and  a  second  college  acquaintance  who  was 
in  the  advertising  business.  He  would  hunt 
them  in  turn  and  find  whether  they  knew 
Miss  Pearse.  If  by  any  chance  they  did  he 
would  secure  an  introduction  to  that  lady, 
but  he  wasn't  hopeful  of  gaining  his  end 
that  way.  Neither  the  college  instructor 
nor  the  advertising  man  were  social  lights, 
while  as  for  the  elderly  lawyer.  Wade  remem- 
bered him  as  a  rather  offensive,  misanthrop- 
ic old  codger,  unmarried  and  living  in  some 
small  town  in  New  Jersey.  No.  he  could 
scarcely  expect  results  from  that  trio  of 
acquaintances,  but  he  would  see  them 
nevertheless.  If  nothing  came  of  it,  and 
he  was  pretty  certain  that  nothing  would, 
he  would  go  boldly  to  the  Fifty-third  Street 
house,  request  an  audience  of  Miss  Pearse 
and  state  his  case.  She  had  looked  kindly. 
Wade  recalled,  and,  after  all,  it   was  no 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

crime  to  fall  in  love  with  a  beautiful  girl 
and  no  crime  to  want  to  meet  her.  The 
lady  would  probably  think  him  crazy  at 
first,  but  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  convince 
her  of  his  sanity.  He  would  present  what 
credentials  he  could,  request  her  to  make 
inquiries  as  to  his  respectability  and  finan- 
cial standing  and,  if  satisfactory,  introduce 
him  to  her  neice.  Oh,  it  was  plain  sailing 
after  all.  Thereupon  he  turned  over  and 
went  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning  was  a  busy  one. 
Dave's  trunk  was  to  pack  and  the  problem 
of  getting  everything  into  it  was  appalling. 
In  the  end  Wade  went  across  the  street  and 
bought  a  big  leather  bag  and  saved  the  day. 
After  an  early  luncheon  they  crossed  to  the 
station  and  Wade  saw  Dave  safely  installed 
in  his  sleeper. 

"I  put  a  few  things  in  your  trunk,  Dave, " 
he  said.  "Something  for  you  and  Minnie, 
and  a  few  trinkets  for  the  kids.  Give  them 
all  my  love,  old  man,  and  wish  them  a 
Merry  Christmas.    There's  the  bell.     Good 

68 


^ 
'^v' 


■'    '    I  - 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

bye,  Dave.  Take  care  of  yourself.  I'll 
send  you  my  address  as  soon  as  I  change 
quarters. " 

"Goodbye,  boy,"  growled  Dave  huskily. 
"You've  gave  me  one  good  time  in  New 
York.  I  wish  you  was  comin'  along  back 
with  me,  though.  Don't  you  worry  about 
the  mine.  I'll  keep  things  agoin'  there  all 
right.  Good  bye.  When  you  see  that  gal 
you  just  tell  her  from  me  that  she  can't  do 
no  better  than  take  you,  an'  if  you  want 
me  to  write  a  good  word  for  you  just  you 
let  me  know.  Good-bye,  boy,  good-bye, 
an'  a  Merry  Christmas!" 

The  train  moved  out  and  Wade  had  one 
last  glimpse  of  Dave's  lugubrious  counte- 
nance at  the  window.  Then  he  walked  back 
up  the  platform  toward  the  gates  feeling  a 
little  bit  lonesome.  It  was  going  to  be 
rather  dull  for  a  day  or  two  without  old 
Dave.  Beyond  the  gate  he  paused  to  con- 
sider. It  was  Saturday  and  it  was  doubt- 
ful if  either  the  lawyer  or  the  advertising 
man  could  be  found  at  his  office. 

64 


*;  \ 


P  >/,•»,;/ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

To  be  sure,  he  might  look  up  their  home, 
addresses,  but  the  city  seemed  *  suddenly 
very  big  and  empty  and  distasteful  to  him. 
It  looked  as  though  everyone  was  getting 
out  of  it,  so  great  were  the  throngs  hurrying 
toward  the  gates,  and  Wade  experienced  a 
desire  to  himself  take  train  and  go  some- 
where. In  the  end  he  returned  to  the  hotel 
and  packed  a  bag  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  found  himself  speeding  north- 
ward to  his  old  home  city.  He  spent  the 
night  with  a  distant  relative,  who  was  far 
more  surprised  than  pleased  to  see  him, 
strolled  around  the  town  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing with  results  far  from  cheering,  and  took 
a  train  back  to  New  York  at  eleven  with  a 
distinct  sensation  of  rehef. 

The  station  was  almost  deserted  as  he 
made  his  way  toward  the  cab-stand  and 
when  a  waiting-room  door  swung  open  and  a 
group  of  four  persons  hurried  through  his 
attention  was  attracted. 

A  porter,  laden  with  bags  led  the  way. 
Then  came  a  slight,  elderly  lady  with  silvery 

65 


r 


'^ 


I 


\ 


^^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


I 


w 


^^"^.;, 


1  <   .^ 


hair,  and— yes — beside  her  trotted  the  One 
Girl  in  thfc  World!  A  maid  scurried  along 
in  the  rear.  A  gong  clanged  wamingly,  the 
quartette  sped  through  a  gate,  the  gate 
slammed  shut  behind  then;  and  Wade  woke 
to  action  too  late.  He  dashed  toward  the 
gateman. 

"  Wait !    Let  me  through ! " 

The  gateman  looked  at  him  calmly  and 
shook  his  head. 

"  Too  late.     Train's  starting. " 

"No,  it  isn't;  those  folks  aren't  on  yet. 
Stretch  a  point  and  let  me  through,  can't 
you?'' 

"I'd  have  to  see  your  ticket  and  by  that 
time  you'd  be  too  late,"  was  the  untroubled 
reply.     "There's  another  train  at  three." 

"I  dare  say,"  growled  Wade.  "And 
there  are  some  more  next  month,  but  that 
doesn't  help  me  any."  He  looked  up  at 
the  sign  and  read:  "1K)2 — Shore  Line 
Express — Bridgeport — New  Haven — New 
London — Westerly — Kingston — Providence 
— Boston."    The  train  was  moving  now. 

66 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

The  porter  swung  from  a  platform  and  came 
back  toward  the  gates.  Wade  waited  for 
him.  Why  didn't  the  fool  hurry?  Perhaps 
when  the  gate  was  oi>ened  to  let  him  through 
Wade  could  dasfi  by  and  reach  the  train 
after  all.  It  was  a  heavy  one  and  was 
moving  slowly.  But  the  porter  took  his 
time  and  already  it  was  too  late.  Wade 
found  a  half  dollar  and  as  the  porter  reached 
him  sUpped  it  into  his  hand. 

"Those  folks  you  just  put  aboard;  friends 
of  mine;  where  are  they  going?"  he  asked. 

"Boston,  boss." 

"Sure?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  seen  their  tickets.  They 
pretty  nigh  didn't  make  it.  They  come 
up  in  a  automobile  an'  the  young  lady  says 
'Quick,  porter,  we  want  the  Boston  express. 
I'll  give  you  a  dollar  if  you  get  us  on.'  " 
He  chuckled.  "Well,  I  got  'em  on.  An* 
I  got  her  ol' dollar." 

"Do  you  know  who  they  are?  What 
their  name  is?" 

"Reckon  you  know  that  better'n  I  do," 
67 


it 

I 

:4 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

answered   the    negro   with   a   broad   grin. 

"You  said  they  was  friends  of  yours. " 
"Well,  when  does  the  next  train  go  to 

Boston?" 
"Three  o'clock,  sir." 
"When  does  it  arrive?" 
"Eight-thirty— if  she's  on  time." 
"The  deuce!"  sighed  Wade.     Far  out  in 

the  yard  the  tail  end  of  the  Shore  Line 

Express  switched  itself  out  of  sight. 


N 
»» 


I 


-V 


"1 ) 


\^ 


/   *^ 


68 


o 


VI 


I.. 


'  111   .•.'•( 


vVuf''    sprang 

.'!'     11-         fiv- 

up 

■  "'•.     •  on       .I'd 

■  '   <!<'/•  I  .  ther 

;  1 1  row  n-  tone 
'  <''t<i     vicidows 

■  i,riil  -d  doors. 
.  n;  any  other 


TEN  minutes 
from  a  cab  i 
third  Strre 
the  steps, 
appearance  but  I 
houses  in  that  emi  >■'  [',h  i 
front,  high  Dutch  no  ,) 
hung  with  panel  curtain.  ,  • 
But  to  Wade  it  was  differs 
house  in  the  world,,  for  in  it  lived  the  Girl. 
Even  the  big  mat  with  the  house  number  in 
red  held  a  pleasant  fascination  for  him  since 
her  feet  had  trod  it.  He  had  his  card  ready 
when  the  door  opened. 

"Miss  Pearse.5*"  he  asked  pleasantly  as 
he  entered  the  hall. 

"Not  at  home,  sir,"  replied  the  butler, 
glancing  at  the  card. 

69 


c^i.).,!^.— 


jk 


V 


.  ^^" 


7 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


If 


"Not  at  home?"  Wade's  face  expressed 
great  surprise.     "But  I  understood " 

"The  family  left  a  half -hour  ago,  sir. 
They'll  be  out  of  town  until  New  Year's." 

"That's     very    disappointing,"    mused 
^  Wade  with  a  frown.     "  I  had  fully  expected 
to  find  Miss  Pearse  at  home  today.    They 
left  earlier  than  they  intended?" 

"I  can't  say,  sir." 

"Then  I  must  reach  her  by  telephone. 
You  have  her  address?" 

The  butler  hesitated.  The  caller  spoke 
like  an  old  friend  of  the  family,  but  the 
name  on  the  card  was  strange  to  him  and 
he  couldn't  recall  the  face.  And  he  was  a 
discreet  butler. 

"No,  sir.  But  if  you  write  here,  a  letter 
will  be  forwarded. " 

"That  will  take  too  long,"  was  the  deci- 
sive reply.     "  Surely  you  know  whether  Miss 
Pearse  has  gone  North  or  South  or  West!" 
The  butler  hesitated,  glancing  at  the  card. 
"I  think,  sir,"  he  finally  replied  cautious- 
ly, "that  they  left  for  Boston." 

70 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE      - 


"But  you  don't  know  where  in  Boston  I 
can  reach  her  on  the  'phone?" 

"No,  sir,  I  think  they  are  to  meet  Master 
Gordon  there  and  go  on  North,  into  Canada,!/* 
tonight." 

"Oh,  they're  going  to  meet  the  boy,  eh?" 
said  Wade  carelessly.  "And  go  on  tonight. 
Then  I  can'l  reach  her  there.  You  didn't 
hear  what  place  in  Canada?" 

"No,  sir,  I  think  not." 

"You  think  not?"  Wade  dipped  his  hand 
into  his  pocket.  The  butler  drew  himself 
up  haughtily. 

"That's  all  I  know,  sir,"  he  said  coldly. 
Wade's  hand  came  out  empty. 

"Well,  I'll  write  to  Miss  Pearse  here  in 
the  hope  that  the  letter  will  be  forwarded  at 
once.     Never  mind  the  card. " 

The  butler  returned  it,  bowed,  and  Wade 
found  himself  outside  again  on  the  fascinat- 
ing mat.  He  returned  to  the  cab  and  bade 
the  driver  hurry  to  the  hotel.  There  was 
but  one  thing  to  do  and  he  meant  to  do  it. 
Canada  was  a  large  country,  and  if  the  party 

71 


1  -, 


^^; 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

went  on  from  Boston  tonight  his  chance  of 
finding   them    was   pretty   sUm.     But   the 
chance  was  there  and  he  would  take  it.     To 
remain  in  New  York  until  New  Year's  ancl 
await  her  return  was  out  of  the  question, 
and  it  might  be  that  in  Boston  luck  would 
favor  him  again  and  he  could  discover  her 
destination.     At  the  hotel  he  opened  trunk 
and  bag,  and  packed  the  latter  with  clothes 
for  a   fortnight's  journey.     The  tiiink   he 
sent  to  the  porter's  room,  directing  that  it 
be  held  there  until  he  sent  for  it.     By  that 
time  it  was  barely  two  o'clock,  but  he  didn't 
intend  taking  any  risks  and  so  had  himself 
and  bag  taken  to  the  station.     For  three- 
(|uarters  of  an  hour  he  paced  the  train-shed, 
smoking  and  weighing  his  chances.     Finally 
he  rescued  his  bag  from  the  check-roonii, 
purchased  a  pathfinder  and  some  magazines 
and  found  his  place  in  the  parlor  car. 

The  pathfinder  increased  his  despondency. 
The  train  she  had  gone  on  was  due  in 
Boston  at  six,  and  between  that  hour  and 
the  time  when  his  own  train  was  due  she 

72 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


had  several  opportunities  of  eluding  him. 
One  thing,  however,  seemed  reasonably 
certain,  and  that  was  that  whatever  place 
above  the  border  she  was  going  to,  Montreal 
would  be  her  first  destination.  Renewed 
examination  of  the  guide  revealed  the  fact 
that  subsequent  to  his  arrival  in  Boston 
there  were  two  trains  which  he  might  take 
to  reach  Montreal;  one  at  nine  o'clock, 
and  one  at  eleven.  There  was  little  to 
choose  between  them  in  point  of  sjjeed,  as 
each  reached  Montreal,  over  different  routes, 
at  approximately  the  same  time  in  the 
morning.  The  train  which  he  ought  to 
take  and  which,  doubtless.  Miss  Pearse's 
party  meant  to  take,  left  the  North  Station 
at  eight-thirty.  As  he  wouldn't  get  to  the 
South  Terminal  until  that  time  there  was 
no  possibility  for  him  of  making  that  con- 
nection. He  noted  the  leaving  times  of  the 
Montreal  trains  in  his  memorandum  book 
and  then  faced  a  new  contingency. 

Supposing  the  butler  either  didn't  know 
or   had   deliberatelv   lied.'    Supposing  the 

■  73 


I. 


V   ,A 


A';  - 


-•rrf     -.^^tfCJl:' 


'  I 


li 


A. 


'II 

J 


\  a\ 


M 
\  ) 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

party  had  no  intention  of  going  beyond 
Boston?  Wade  groaned.  If  only  he  had 
had  the  presence  of  mind  to  get  through 
that  gate  before  it  closed !  As  it  was  he  was 
t'^o  hours  behind,  and  those  two  hours 
might  make  all  the  difference  in  the  world. 
He  tossed  the  pathfinder  onto  the  opposite 

"No  use  worrying,"  he  muttered.  "I'll 
just  have  to  keep  my  wits  about  me  and 
trust  to  luck. " 

After  that  he  wondered  who  "Master 
Gordon"  might  be,  and  while  he  was  won- 
dering the  train  stopped  at  Bridgeport. 
It  stayed  an  unconscionably  long  time  and 
he  began  to  fret.  So  he  selected  a  magazine 
and  went  into  the  smoking-room  and 
lighted  a  pipe.  It  was  dark  outside  now 
and  the  lights  were  on  in  the  car.  Pres- 
ently they  were  >ogging  along  again.  The 
magazine  didn't  prove  very  interesting  and 
presently  it  slipped  frons  his  hands  and  his 
head  dropped  back  against  the  wall.  He 
must  have  slumbered  for  some  time,  for 

74 


r"  .\., 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

when  he  awoke  with  a  start  the  train  was 
still  and  his  watch  told  him  it  was  about 
six  o'clock.  There  was  no  sight  of  a  sta- 
tion and  presently  he  grew  curious.  As 
there  was  no  one  in  the  smoking  room  to 
make  inquiries  of,  he  punched  the  button. 
In  his  own  good  time  the  porter  appeared 
at  the  door. 

"Where  are  we,  porter.'*"  Wade  asked. 
'Bout  eight  miles  west  of  New  London, 
r  sir. " 

"This  isn't  a  station,  is  it?  What's  the 
trouble?" 

"There's  a  freight  wreck  ahead  of  us,  sir." 

"  Good  Lord ! "  groaned  Wade.  The  por- 
ter grinned  sympathetically. 

"  Yes,  sir,  we  done  tied  up  here  for  awhile, 
I  reckon.  Other  train  ain't  no  better  oflf, 
though. " 

"What  other  train?" 

"Number  18:  she's  held  up  too,  sir. " 

Wade  stared. 
if  "You  mean  the  train  tha\  left  New  York 

at  one-two?" 

75 


-■\ 


/■  i 


■^ 


t 

■t 


i    I 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


<4- 


.  w 


Yes,  sir. " 

She  didn't  get  by?    She's  ahead  of  us 
here?" 

"Yes,  sir,  'bout  quarter  of  a  mile  down 
the  track. " 

Wade  jumped  from  his  seat,  pushed  the 
porter  aside  and  rushed  into  the  car.  The 
next  instant  he  was  back,  bag  in  hand.  He 
thrust  a  half-dollar  at  the  astonished  porter. 

"There  you  are.  Open  that  door  for  me, 
porter. " 

Wh-what  you  all  goin'  do,  sir?" 
I'm  going  to  change  trains.     Hurry  up 
with  the  door!" 

"You  may  get  left,  boss,"  remonstrated 
the  darkey  as  he  pulled  open  the  vestibule 
door.  "That  other  train  may  pull  out  any 
time." 

"Then  I  get  left,"  answered  Wade  as  he 
swung  himself  onto  the  ground.  It  was 
pitch  dark  save  for  the  lights  from  the  car 
windows  and  he  stumbled  over  the  ends  of 
the  ties  until  his  eyes  accustomed  them- 
selves to  the  gloom  and  descried  a  narrow 

76 


rlP«-.." 


n,i 


"~>^M 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

path  at  the  edge  of  the  enbankment.  Once 
on  that  it  was  easier  going  and  soon  he  was 
past  the  sobbing  engine  with  the  tail-lights 
of  the  other  train  faintly  in  sight  ahead.  He 
took  to  the  track  now,  trotting  along  with 
his  heavy  bag  swinging  against  his  legs  at 
every  stride  and  threatening  to  bring  him 
down.  Finally  he  lifted  it  to  his  shoulder 
and  had  less  trouble.  The  porter  had  men- 
tioned a  quarter  of  a  mile,  but  Wade  was 
sure  he  had  underestimated  the  distance, 
for  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  lights  were  as 
far  away  as  ever.  Every  instant  he  feared 
to  hear  the  engine  signal  departure.  Then 
the  tail-lights  suddenly  drew  nearer  and 
ahead  a  yellow  glow  came  into  view.  They 
were  working  at  the  wreck  by  naphtha  flares 
far  down  the  track.  Now  he  was  almost 
up  to  the  rear  car  and  he  had  won  his  race. 
He  slackened  his  pace  a  httle  and  smiled  to 
think  that  now  that  he  had  reached  the 
train  it  was  quite  likely  to  remain  there  for 
another  hour  or  two.  And  at  that  instant 
from  up  the  track  ahead  came  the  hoarse 


-*s^; 


in 


u 


_-^ 


\.-* 


*■♦.. 


77 


.1:n      •  \ 


'r'Mi  ''^ 


^.     a 


^-^uJ^ 


— -  ■>.,. 
1 

I 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

whistle  of  the  locomotive,  there  was  a 
sound  of  straining  couplings  and  the  rear 
lights  began  to  move  slowly  away.  Wade 
sprang  forward,  swinging  the  bag  down  from 
his  shoulder  and  raced  frantically  over  the 
ties.  Only  a  few  yards  separated  him  from 
his  goal,  but  for  one  heart-sickening  moment 
it  seemed  that  his  goal  was  going  to  elude 
him.  He  put  every  ounce  of  strength  into 
the  chase  and  plunged  on.  The  distance 
lessened  and  he  sprang  across  a  rail  and 
gained  the  path.  Then  his  outstretched 
hand  caught  the  brass  railing,  he  swung  his 
bag  onto  the  lower  step  and,  free  of  his 
burden,  ran  alongside  until  he  could  reach 
the  other  railing  with  his  right  hand. 
With  an  effort  that  seemed  to  require  every 
last  drop  of  breath  and  strength  he  threw 
himself  up  beside  his  bag.  For  a  moment 
he  clung  there  exhausted  on  his  knees. 
Then  he  drew  himself  to  the  upper  step  and 
with  one  hand  clutching  the  bag  and  the 
other  the  raiUng  leaned  against  the  door  and 
fought  for  breath. 

7^ 


THKV     HIS    Ol  THTKKTIHKI)    HAVI)    I    \li;ilT 
THk    HK  \SS    RAILIMi  " 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


•    .  <    I  ■  • 


•\ 


i|]y 


A  moment  later  a  glare  of  light  beat  oA.A^^'  ■'-       ^  \ 
his  closed  lids  and  he  opened  his  eyes  to  find 
the  train  running  cautiously  by  the  scene  of 
the  wreck.    The  track  was  cleared,  but  the 
wreckage  was  piled  heterogenously  along  the  ^ 
cut  and  in  the  confusion  Italians  were  work- 
ing frantically  under  the  light  of  dozens  of 
naphtha  torches.    The  wrecked  engine  came 
into  sight,  lying  on  iU  side  with  its  great 
driving-wheels  pathetically  in   air.    Then 
the  glow  died  away  behind  and  the  train 
was   speeding   on    through   the   darkness. 
Wade  reached  up  and  tried  the  door,  but, 
as  he  had  expected,  it  was  locked.     So  he 
settled  himself  as  comfortably  as  he  could, 
closed  his  eyes  again  to  keep  out  the  cinders 
and   waited   for   New   London.      Luckily, 
since  traveling  crouched  up  on  the   back 
steps  of  the  rear  car  is  anything  but  pleasant, 
that  stop  was  soon  reached  and  Wade  crawl- 
ed down  stiff  and  weary  and  covered  with 
dust  and  cinders  and  hurried  along  the 
platform. 

"Can  I  get  a  seat?"  he  asked  the  conductor. 

79 

_— ^\  n 

I 


•  ;  1 


tMOOCOn  tiSOWTION  TBT  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


A    /APPLIED  IfVMGE 


1653  Eosl   Main   Strwl 

RochMter,   New   rork        14609       USA 

(716)  *82  -  0300  -  Phon. 

(716)  288-5989  -Tax 


w- 


(-«'. 


•V.-- 


\  \ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Number  7  in  car  3."  A  porter  seized 
his  bag  and  Wade  followed  up  the  steps  and 
into  the  car  to  sink  tiredly  into  the  chair 
pointed  out  to  him.  He  felt  oddly  dizzy 
and  closed  his  eyes  for  a  moment.  Outside 
the  conductor  cried  "All  aboard!";  the 
porter  slammed  the  vestibule  doors;  the 
train  moved  on  again.  And  Wade,  open- 
ing his  eyes,  found  himself  looking  across 
the  car  into  the  puzzled  blue  eyes  of  the 
Girl. 


'-  r^/- 


»>. 


80 


1'^ 


)'   — ?-  .  '--..• 


rfx  A  !  N      I   •.-.  /A  V  r_  rj 


a  !?iv.l 


\- 


VII 

HIS  own  gaze  fell  first,  prompted 
by  a  ridiculous  sense  of  guilt 
which  he  warmly  resented  the 
next  instant.  Why  should  he  be 
ashamed?  He  had  done  nothing  out  of  the 
way,  and  to  prove  it  he  would  look  at  her 
again.  But  she  had  turned  away  now  and 
Wade's  air  of  conscious  virtue  and  perfect 
innocence  was  wasted.  The  porter  came 
down  the  aisle  and  stopped. 

"  Thirty  cents,  Miss.     Thank  you.  Miss." 
"Will  they  get  it  off  right  away?"  asked 
the  Girl. 
"Yes'm." 

Miss  Pearse,  in  the  seat  ahead,  appeared 
from  behind  the  highly-colored  covers  of 
the  Ladies'  Pictorial. 

"What  does  he  say,  Prue?"  she  asked. 
("  Prue ! "    Wade  heard  and  gloated.) 

81 


,A     >^^ 


S/;^  i 


•^i' 


loated.; 

•  > 

■  ^ 

-  ■-  V  . 

''~^^~~;^-^ 

/  -  \ 

»    ,'   V 

'\r-—  )'  V 

•'-^^^'^•^ 

CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


({- 


'He  says  they'll  get  the  message  right  oflF, 
Auntie.  Oh,  I  do  hope  he  will  get  it  in  time. 
K  he  doesn't  we'll  have  to  stay  over  night 
there,  won't  we?" 

"We  may  have  to  anyway,"  returned 
Miss  Pearse  dejectedly.  "I  don't  beheve 
this  train  will  ever  get  to  Boston.  For  my 
part,  I  think  I  'd  quite  as  lief  spend  tonight 
in  a  comfortable  bed  at  the  hotel  as  on  that 
train. " 

"But  Gordon  will  be  so  disappointed, 
dear!  It  must  have  been  frightfully  dull 
for  him  at  Groton.  Why  do  you  suppose 
they  don't  run  that  train  from  Sherbrooke 
to  Quebec  on  Sundays?  If  we  had  left 
yesterday  all  this  wouldn't  have  happened. " 

(Quebec!  At  last  Wade  knew  where  he 
was  going!) 

"My  dear,"  replied  her  aunt  irascibly, 
"If  you'll  tell  me  why  the  railroads  in  this 
part  of  the  world  do  any  of  the  silly  things 
they  do  I'll  be  greatly  obhged.  Every  time 
I  travel  in  New  England  I  make  up  my 
mind  I  '11  never  do  it  again !    Do  you  reahze 

82 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

that  if  Gordon  meets  us  and  we  catch  the 
Quebec  train  we  won't  have  a  bite  to  eat?" 

"  I  know,  and  I  'm  hungry  now !  Perhaps 
we  can  snatch  a  mouthful  at  the  station. " 

"I  don't  care  to  'snatch'  my  dinner," 
said  Miss  Pearse  with  something  hke  a 
sniff.  The  conductor  engaged  Wade's  at- 
tention then  and  when  the  latter  had  paid 
his  fare  and  was  free  to  give  his  attention 
again  to  his  neighbors.  Miss  Pearse  had 
disappeared  once  more  behind  her  Christ- 
mas number  and  her  neice  had  returned  to 
her  own  magazine. 

"Well,"  he  reflected,  "I've  discovered 
two  very  important  things:  that  her  first 
name  is  Prue  and  that  she — and  I — are 
going  to  Quebec.  Also  that  they  have  tele- 
graphed Gordon,  who  is  probably  her  broth- 
er in  school  at  Groton,  to  meet  them 
either  on  their  arrival  at  the  South  Terminal 
or  at  the  North  Station.  Also  that  if  we 
get  in  in  time  to  cross  town  and  reach  the 
North  Station  and  get  the  eight-thirty  train 
it's  going  to  be  a  quick  scramble  and  we'll 

83 


i 


-J    ■■ 


i    ! 


I 


'/     / 


"^^ 


-\ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

all  go  to  bed  dinnerless.    And   I'm  just 
as  hungry  as  she  is,  poor  girl!" 

He  rang  the  bell  and  when  the  porter 
came  asked: 

"George,    did  they  take  that   diner  off 
at  New  London?" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"And  there's  no  buffet  on  board?" 
"No,  sir." 

"Well,  how  late  are  we  and  when  will  we 
get  in?" 

"Most  two  hours  late  at  New  London,  sir, 
but  Cap  says  we'll  make  some  of  it  up.  If 
we  do  we  ought  to  get  in  about  eight. " 

"About  eight,  eh?  Think  I'd  have  time 
to  get  over  to  the  North  Station  for  the 
eight-thirty  train  out?" 

From  the  comer  of  his  eye  he  saw  the 
GirUum  her  head  and  dart  a  glance  across 
at  him. 

"I  dunno,  sir  Reckon  if  we  get  in  by 
eight  you  can  make  it  all  right  in  a  taxi. " 

"Well,  you  tell  the  conductor  to  hustle 
along,  George." 

84 


t-^^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"We'll  do  that,  sir;  don't  you  worry; 
there's  a  heap  of  folks  on  that  wants  to 
make  connections  tonight. " 

The  porter  moved  away  and  Wade  looked 
across  the  aisle.  The  Girl  was  apparently 
absorbed  in  her  magazine  and  so  he  could 
study  her  to  his  heart's  content.  She  wore 
a  black  and  white  checked  skirt  and  a  gi'ay 
silk  waist.  The  suit  coat  hung  from  a 
hook  and  with  it  was  the  fur  coat  she  had 
worn  yesterday.  Beside  her  chair  was  a 
small  black  bag  adorned  with  a  gold  cypher, 
but  the  designer  had  done  his  work  well  and 
try  as  he  might  Wade  couldn't  make  any- 
thing of  the  snarled  letters.  On  the  cushion 
in  front  of  her  rested  a  pair  of  slim  patent- 
leather  boots  with  gray  tops  and  smoked 
pearl  buttons,  very  clever,  engaging  boots 
indeed.  She  wore  a  black  hat  which  came 
far  down-  on  her  head  and  reminded  Wade 
of  a  turban  such  as  the  Hindoos  wear, 
formed  as  it  seemed  to  be  of  folds  of  corded 
silk.  It  hid  her  hair  almost  completely  and 
under  it  her  face  looked  small  and  pale  and 

85 


7-' 


\  i. 


'A- 

f  A 


_«'! 


ft  V. 


/N 


v-^^r^. 


V 


1^ 

'1/ 


S*'' 


•'e: 


/f, 


<(, 


/ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTii: 

tired.     Wade's    heart    flooded    with   sym- 
pathy.   That  she  should  be  forced  to  go  to 
bed  without  anything  to  eat  was  a  crime 
against  humanity!    Something  would  have 
to  be  done  about  it!    And  while  sympathy 
and  indignation  consumed  him  the   occu- 
pant of  the  chair  in  front  of  him  swung 
around  revealing  the  features  of  the  maid. 
She  leaned  across  and  spoke  to  the  Girl,  in 
French,  and  Wade  was  glad  the  next  mo- 
ment that  he  had  moved  his  gaze,  for  the 
Girl's  glance  swept  past  him  as  she  looked 
up  and  replied  in  the  same  language.     Wade , 
his  gaze  fixed  intently  on  a  bald  head  far 
down  the  aisle,  wished  he  hadn't  forgotten 
all  the  French  he  had  ever  learned.     What- 
ever had  been  said,  the  maid  seemed  satis- 
fied   and   turned    back   again.    The    Girl 
returned  to  her  magazine.     Wade's  regard 
returned  to  the  Girl. 

She  was  no  less  beautiful  today  than  she 
had  been  that  evening  in  the  opera  house 
box,  but  she  looked  a  Uttle  less  regal,  a 
little  moie  human,  and,  to   Wade,    a   bit 

86 


i^- 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

more  warm  and  lovable.  Now  and  then 
the  veriest  ghost  of  a  frown  ruflaed  the  white 
forehead  and  the  long  lashes  flickered,  and 
Wade,  putting  the  symptoms  down  to  weari- 
ness and  depression  and  hunger,  melted  in 
sympathy  until  it  occurred  to  him  that  she 
was  probably  aware  of  his  steady  observa- 
tion and  was  annoyed  by  it.  Whereupon 
he  resolutely  swung  his  chair  around  and 
stared  at  the  darkened  window.  He  had 
his  reward,  in  fact  two  rewards.  The  win- 
dow was  Uke  a  mirror  and  in  it  he  saw  the 
Girl  raise  her  head  and  look  across  at  him 
for  a  moment,  and  after  that  he  found  that 
he  could  still  see  her  almost  as  well  as  when 
facing  her.  After  awhile  she  laid  her  maga- 
zine down  with  a  little  gesture  of  boredom 
and  consulted  her  watch.  After  that  she 
yawned  frankly,  folded  her  hands  loosely 
on  top  of  the  magazine  and  stared  at  the 
cover  of  the  Ladies'  Pictorial. 

The  train  slowed  down  and  ran  into  the 
station  at  Providence.  Wade  went  to  the 
end  of  the  car,  found  a  time-table  and 

87 


f- 


<;,i. 


-.J- 


CUPID  KN  ROUTE 


/ 


■""X.,- 


"U 


retired  with  it  to  the  smoking  room.  Com- 
paring time-table  and  watch  showed  that 
they  had  already  made  up  almost  forty 
minutes.  At  that  rate  they  might  reach 
Boston  at  eight  or  shortly  after.  For  the 
Girl's  sake  he  almost  hoped  that  they 
wouldn't,  for  he  hated  to  think  of  her  going 
on  without  any  dinner.  They  wasted  no 
time  in  Providence,  but  pulled  out  quickly 
and  went  whizzing  away  again  through  the 
night.  A  little  border  of  snow  appeared 
about  the  window  casement  and  flakes 
settled  against  the  glass  to  melt  and  trickle 
down  in  wavering  paths.  Wade  lighted  his 
pipe,  but  he  had  had  an  early  luncheon  and 
tobacco  didn't  taste  very  well.  He  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  wouldn't  return  to  his 
seat  until  they  approached  Boston.  He 
wished  that  he  hadn't  left  his  magazines 
behind  him  on  the  other  train  in  his  hurry. 
Someone,  however,  had  abandoned  a  por- 
tion of  the  Sunday  Times  and  he  rescued 
that  from  the  smoking  room  floor  and 
found  that  it  contained  the  mining  news. 

88 


CUFIl)  K\  IIOUTE 

The  rest  of  the  journey  didn't  seem  Ions, 
and  almost  l)efore  he  knew  it  the  porter 
routed  him  out  and  put  him  through  the 
whiskbroom  degree.  In  the  car  the  general 
depression  had  disappeared  and  the  (x-cu- 
pants  were  resMessly  tugging  at  coats  and 
bags  ami  discarding  newspapers  and  looking 
hopeful.  Wade  got  into  his  own  coat  and 
moved  his  bag  into  the  aisle.  The  Girl 
had  donned  her  checked  coat  and  was 
sitting  erect,  anxious,  ready  for  action. 
They  stopped  a  moment  at  Back  Bay  and 
then  went  on. 

"Boston!  Boston!"  called  the  porter. 
"Leave  by  the  rear  door!" 

Wade  was  one  of  the  first  out,  but  on  the 
platform  he  drew  aside  and  waited.  It 
was  just  nine  minutes  past  eight.  The 
Girl  and  her  aunt  and  the  maid  descended 
hurriedly,  porters  seized  their  luggage  and 
they  scurried  toward  the  gates.  Wade  fol- 
lowed at  a  discreet  distance.  There  was 
only  one  pause  in  that  mad  exodus,  and 
that  came  when  a  small  boy  in  a  gray  ulster 

89 


*-{"-W 


r. 


^   J    ■ 


I 

I' 
I* 


r\ 


•1|« 


if  \ 


r 


'^">^ 


!!!• 


u 


.1-  \ 

i 


J 


N 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

j|nd  black  derby,  carrying  a  large  suit-case, 
met  them.    There  were  hurried  kisses  and 

.then  the  party  sped  on  again,  the  small 
youth  fairly  running  along  at  the  Girl's 
side.  Out  on  the  sidewalk  they  tumbled 
into  a  taxicab,  the  luggage  was  tossed  in 
after  them,  the  porters  were  tipped  and 
the  chauffeur  cranked  up  and  sprang  to  his 
seat.  Wade  lost  no  time.  He  threw  his 
bag  into  the  next  cab. 

"Follow  that  taxi  ahead,"  he  said,  "and 
don't  lose  it  for  a  minute.  Hurry  up,  now !" 
Then  began  a  wild  ride  through  the  narrow 
deserted  snow-sprinkled  streets  of  Boston. 
Wade's  driver  proved  the  man  for  the  work, 
for  he  cut  down  the  distance  between  his 
car  and  the  one  ahead  in  the  first  block  and 
alter  that  dogged  it  all  the  way  to  the 
North  Station,  sweeping  under  the  arch 
not  a  length  behind.  The  big  clock  on  the 
facade  said  eighteen  minutes  past  as  the 
cab  turned  in.  When  he  jumped  out  the 
party  ahead  were  already  entering  the 
waiting  room  on  their  way  to  the  train. 

90 


-i 


(^-  *-. 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

Wade  settled  with  his  driver,  relinquished 
his  bag  to  a  porter  and  hurried  after. 

••What  train,  sir?" 

"Eight-thirty  for  Quebec." 

"This  way,  sir." 

Wade  caught  sight  of  a  lunch  room  and  a 
brilliant  thought  occurred  to  him. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  he  called,  and  sprang 

through  the  doors.     "Sandwiches,  about  a 

H  dozen,"    he    shouted,    "fruit— or— cake— 

anything,  only  hurry  it  up!    Enough  for 

five  persons. " 

He  waited,  watching  the  clock,  and  the 
porter  waited,  watching  Wade  and  the  clock 
alternately.  Twenty-three  minutes  past — 
twenty-four — twenty-five — twenty-six — 

"  Here  you  are,  sir,  a  dollar-eighty. " 

"All  right;  keep  the  rest!"  And  Wade 
hurried  after  the  porter  again.  There  was 
still  three  minutes  to  spare  as  they  dashed 
through  the  gate.  "  What  car  you  in,  sir?  " 
gasped  the  porter. 

"I  don't  know;  I  haven't  a  ticket;  find 
the  Pullman  conductor. " 

91 


Lf 
W 


'■*:, 


HI 


n-J^ 


.-.^^^ 


*■ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Next  car  forward,  sir.     Here  you  are, 
V,;;  jsir.     Got  a  berth  for  this  gentleman.  Cap?" 

"No,  nothing  left;  everything  taken. 
Just  sold  the  last  one  half  a  minute  ago. " 

"How  about  a  berth  in  the  smoking 
room?"  asked  Wade  a  trifle  blankly. 

"All  taken,"  answered  the  conductor 
impatiently,  turning  to  help  a  passenger 
aboard. 

"Sorry,  sir,"  said  the  porter.  "Go  into 
a  day  coach,  sir?" 

"Sure!  Hustle  along!" 

"A-all  abo-oard!"  sang  the  conductor. 
A  bell  clanged  somewhere.  Wade  sprang  up 
the  steps  of  a  day  coach  and  the  porter 
tossed  the  bag  after  him. 

"Thank  you,  sir."  He  caught  the  coin 
deftly  in  midair.  "Better  see  him  again, 
sir;  there  might  be  something  left;  some- 
times folks  don't  turn  up. " 

"Well,"  Wade  reflected  philosophically 
as  he  carried  his  bag  to  a  seat,  "  it  won't  be 
the  first  time  I've  slept  in  a  day  coach 
And,  anyhow,  I  've  got  some  supper. " 

92 


■}■■ 


% 


>.• 


'■f: 


/ 


-i"y. 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

He  put  his  overcoat  in  the  rack,  placed 
the  bag  on  the  seat  and  the  luncheon  beside 
it,  and  went  back  to  reconnoiter.  The  next 
car  back  was  a  sleeper,  and  he  walked 
through  it  expecting  every  minute  that  his 
eager  eyes  would  light  on  the  Girl.  But 
she  was  not  there.  He  went  back  to  the 
next  one.  It  was  as  crowded  as  the  first, 
but  where — He  walked  slowly  down  the 
aisle,  looking  to  left  and  right.  The  Girl 
was  not  to  be  seen !  Nor  was  Miss  Pearse ! 
Not  even  the  maid  or  the  small  boy! 
Wade's  heart  sank,  but  arose  again.  The 
explanation  was  quite  simple.  There  was 
still  another  sleeper  on  the  train.  He  had 
noticed  but  two,  but  in  the  hurry  he  had,  of 
course,  overlooked  one.  He  went  back 
through  the  passage,  opened  the  rear  door — 
and  found  himself  looking  onto  the  track! 
He  slammed  the  door  shut  again  and  re- 
flected frowningly.  Perhaps  he  had  passed 
them  without  seeing  them.  He  would  re- 
trace his  steps  and  look  more  carefully.  He 
did  so,  but  when  he  had  reached  the  forward 

93 


P- 


' 


^    l! 
i! 


X. 


x-^-i 


:^  I'L  CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

/(/  /'  >■-- 

'^:3end  of  the  first  sleeper  again  he  had  to 

'/ \  r.         acknowledge    defeat.     Slumping    into    the 
t    smoking  room,  there  he  cast  himself  deject- 
edly on  to  the  seat. 

He  had  missed  her  after  all!  She  had 
gone  off  on  another  train!  If  only  he 
hadn't  stopped  at  the  damned  lunch  room! 


'.r 


•rT 


w_-----f:-^^:??»^.: 


'  '■'".  ■>     ;' 


•ft 

If 


hi 


ti 


I 


"^   J 


94 


Tr 


•c, 


■.-:fc'?-^—  fZ.-'     -- 


TH>    'U 


r 


I' 


^ 


liH'iJ  fitl.     L,  J 


ii-,,.' 


VIII 

THE  Pullman  conductor  entered, 
diagrams  in  hand,  and  seated  him- 
self opposite.  Wade  watched  him 
compare  and  erase  and  alter  and 
tried  to  decided  whether  to  leave  the  train 
at  the  first  stop  or  to  remain  on  it.  If  he 
got  off  and  returned  to  Boston  he  wouldn't 
be  any  better  off  than  he  was  now.  No, 
the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  get  to  Quebec 
as  best  he  could  and  trust  to  finding  the 
Girl  there.  Luckily  Quebec  wasn't  very 
big  and  it  would  be  difficult  for  Prue — he 
had  begun  to  call  her  that  in  his  thoughts — 
to  escape  discovery.  He  wondered  about 
that  other  train;  it  was  strange  that  he  had 
seen  no  mention  of  it  in  the  guide.  Perhaps 
he  had  misunderstood  and  she  was  not  going 
to  Quebec  after  all! 

"Conductor,"  he  asked,  "is  there  another 
95 


f 


V 


\y\ 


K 


x,^" 


CL  PID  E\  RCJLTE 

train  for  QueJiec  leaving  at  eipht-thirty  or 
around  there?" 

The  conductor  made  a  Lost  correction  and 
slipped  his  pencil  back. 

"No,  nothing  until  nine,"  he  answered, 
looking  up.     "Aren't   you   the   gentleman 
who  wanted  a  berth.^" 
les. 

" Thought  so.  Sorrj-  there  isn't  an>i:hing. 
Travel's  heavier  tonight  than  I've  seen  it 
for  months.  Everybody's  going  home  at 
once,  it  seems. " 

"  Could  I  leave  this  train  and  get  the  nine 
o'clock  anywhere  along  here.^ " 

"Yes,  at  Lowell;  9:10.  I  don't  know 
whether  you  could  get  anything  on  that  or 
not,    though.     You  might  trv-  it. " 

"When  would  I  get  to  Quebec.^" 

"Well,  if  you  made  connection  at  Mon- 
treal you'd  get  there  about  three  tomor- 
row,"    Wade  glancetl  at  his  watch. 

"I  believe  I'll  try  it."  he  muttereil. 

"If  this  snow  keeps  up,  though,"  con- 
tinued the  conductor,  "we  are  both   Ukely 

9t> 


^■i-^.^ 


,  ^, 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

to  be  late. "  He  leaned  forward  and  looked 
out  of  the  window.  "It's  coming  hard 
now.  And  there's  about  four  inches  of  it 
on  the  level  up  North  already.  Well!" 
He  got  up  briskly  and  moved  toward  the 
door.  "You  can  sit  in  here,  sir,  until  the 
porter  gets  ready  to  make  up  these  berths. 
Those  day  coaches  are  pretty  crowded." 

"Thank  you,"  answered  Wade,  "but  I 
guess  I'll  try  my  luck  on  the  other  train.  I 
had  luck  the  last  time  I  changed, "  he  added 
to  himself,  "and  maybe  I  will  again. " 

When  the  train  slowed  down  at  Lowell 
he  was  ready  with  his  bag  and  the  package 
of  luncheon.  His  appetite  seemed  to  have 
disappeared,  but  he  thought  it  wise  to  hold 
on  to  the  luncheon  until  he  was  certain  it 
wouldn't  be  needed.  It  was  probable, 
however,  that  he  could  get  a  cup  of  coffee 
and  some  refreshment  here  at  the  station; 
as  the  next  train  wouldn't  come  along  for  a 
half  hour  he  would  have  plenty  of  time. 
In  answer  to  that  reflection  a  coffee  urn 
gleamed  a  welcome  to  him  through  a  win- 

97 


':l 


h-' 


•   / 

I 


y 


-•  %' 


li 


II' 


HI 


Ma 
si  -i 

1  4 


it 

h 


i 


{.•Pi 


.^-' 


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"S:. 


k^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

dow  as  he  alighted.  He  dodged  the  waiting 
passengers  on  the  platform  and  made  for 
the  lunch  room.  But  in  the  doorway 
something  impelled  a  backward  look  at  the 
train  he  had  left.  His  gaze  idly  swept 
along  the  line  of  lighted  windows.  Here 
and  there  some  were  already  dark,  showing 
that  the  porter  was  busy  making  up. 

"All  abooardl" 

The  train  started,  the  wheels  crunching 
on  the  snowy  rails,  and  the  first  sleeper 
moved  slowly  by  in  front  of  him.  Then 
came  the  second  and  a  broad  window 
flashed  into  sight,  and  Wade,  across  the 
platform,  found  himself  looking  into  a 
drawing-room  and  in  the  drawing-room  sat 
four  persons,  one  of  whom  was  gazing  long- 
ingly out  at  the  gleaming  coffee  urn  I 

Wade's  heart  leaped  into  his  throat,  and 
the  next  instant  he  was  racing  along  the  wet 
platform  in  pursuit  of  the  front  vestibule 
of  that  last  sleeper.  He  collided  \-iolently 
with  a  stout  woman  and  caromed  off  her 
into  a  baggage-man  who  swore  luridlv  until 

98 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


long  after  Wade  had  clambered  onto  the 
steps  and  had  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 
It  was  the  Pullman  conductor  who  respond^" 
ed  to  Wade's  pounding  on  the  door. 

"Hello!"    he    said    as    he    helped    him 
through.     "Thought  you'd  left  us." 

"I  changed  my  mind.  Thanks."  He 
made  his  way  back  to  the  day  coach  ahead 
and  found  that  two  French  Canadians  had 
taken  the  seat  he  had  abandoned.  There 
was  nothing  left  save  the  small  seat  behind 
the  door,  but  he  didn't  care.  He  had  found 
the  Girl!  He  put  his  bag  in  a  vacant  rack 
and  then  turned  his  attention  to  the  con- 
tents of  the  paper  package.  He  had  almost 
lost  it  from  under  his  arm  in  that  wild  dash 
for  the  train,  but  save  that  the  sandwiches 
were  slightly  squashed  aud  an  over-ripe 
banana  had  done  its  worst  it  was  still  a 
perfectly  good  luncheon.  There  were 
twelve  sandwiches,  some  of  ham  and  some 
of  chicken;  three  oranges,  four  bananas — 
one  no  longer  worthy  of  consideration, — 
three  apples  and  six  slices  of  rather  stale 

99 


I.., 


-j.> 


[    ,      ! 


p 

1 

1 

ii- 

1 

;*N. 

S«f 

f 

■;»', 

1- 

1^ 

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:, 

If 

C 

1 

I 


1 1 


E 


1ii 


*1    1 


'T^ 


>, 


\ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

cake.  Wade  laidjaside  two  sandwiches,  a 
apple  and  a  banana  and  returned  the  res 
to  the  paper.  It  didn't  make  a  ver 
attractive  package,  he  had  to  confess,  bu 
he  didn't  believe  that  the  occupants  of  th 
drawing  room  were  in  a  mood  to  be  ove 
critical.  Package  in  hand,  he  went  bad 
to  the  second  sleeper. 

What  an  ass  he  had  been  not  to  hav 
thought  of  the  drawing-rooms!  It  ha< 
happened,  however,  that  the  door  of  eac] 
had  been  closed  when  he  had  made  hi 
search  and  their  presence  had  never  occurrec 
to  him.  Well,  all  was  well  that  ended  well 
The  smoking  room  was  crowded,  so  he  pui 
his  head  around  the  corner  into  the  aisle  anc 
found  the  porter  busy  a  few  berths  away 
That  worthy  came  at  his  call,  and  his 
frowns  smoothed  themselves  away  at  sight 
of  the  dollar  bill  which  Wade  diplomatically 
exhibited. 

"Porter,"  he  explained,  "I  want  you  to 
take  this  bundle  of  sandwiches  and  fruit 
to  the  party  in  the  drawing-room.    Just 

100 


P\f  KA(iE    1\    HAM),    HE    WENT    BACK 
TO    THE    SECOND    sleeper" 


■J 
i* 


'1 

;1 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

tell  them  a  gentleman  sent  it,  believing 
them  to  be  hungr>'.  If  they  ask  what  I 
look  like  tell  them  you  didn't  notice.  Un- 
derstand?" 

"Yes.  sir,  I  understand."  He  grinned 
appreciatively.  "  I  reckon  they'll  be  mighty 
pleased  to  get  it,  sir.  Young  lady  says 
she's  most  starved  to  death.  Asked  me 
could  I  get  her  something  at  Lowell,  but 
there  wasn't  time."  He  tucked  the  money 
away  under  his  jacket. 

"  Mind,  now,  don't  let  them  get  anything 
out  of  you. " 

"No,  siree!  I  forgot  what  you  look  like 
already!"  And  he  went  off  ^  he  aisle, 
package  in  hand,  chuckling  enj     ably. 

Wade  saw  him  knock  on  the  drawing-room 
door  and  then  he  went  back  to  his  seat  in 
the  drafty  day  coach,  took  a  sweater  from 
his  bag  and  rolled  it  up  for  a  pillow,  stretched 
himself  out  on  his  short  couch,  his  legs  draped 
picturesquely  over  the  arm,  drew  his  coat 
over  him  and  prepared  for  slumber. 


\^^ 


'■■'-♦'V- 


101 


\  ■-■- 


:^ 


:  i\ 


u 


ii 


U.[ 


-J 


'4' 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Come." 

"Yes'm.  Gentleman  says  present  this 
to  you  with  his  eomplimenUi."  The  porter 
held  out  the  package  with  an  air.  Miss 
Pearse  took  it,  turned  it  over  curiously. 

"Gentleman?    What  gentleman?" 

"I  dunno,  ma'am.  Just  a  gentleman. 
Said  he  reckoned  you  all  was  hungry,  ma'am. " 

"Hungry?  What— what  is  it?"  She 
viewed  the  brown  paper  parcel  distastefully. 

"San'wiches  an'  fruit,  he  said." 

"Oh,  Auntie!    Sandwiches!"  cried  Prue. 

"Dandy!"  exclaimed  the  boy.  Even 
Leone,  the  maid,  showed  signs  of  interest. 

"  Impertinent ! "  said  Miss  Pearse.  "  The 
idea!  A  strange  man!  Tell  him,  porter, 
that—" 

"  We're  very,  very  much  obliged ! "  Prue 
seized  the  parcel  and  tore  off  the  paper. 
"Oh,  Gordon,  they're  ham!  Think  of  ham 
sandwiches!" 

"Honest?  Gee,  Prue,  let's  get  at  'em! 
I'd  rather  have  ham  than  any  kind  when 
I'm  real  hungry!" 

102 


^■4 


;tH 


>    --•o^ 


CUPID  KN  ROUTE 

"But,  my  dear,"  said  her  aunt,  "you 
mustn't  eat  that — that  stuff!  Why,  it  may 
be  poisoned!" 

"Nonsense,  Auntie!  And  even  if  they 
are  I'd  rather  die  quickly  of  poison  than 
starve  to  death  lingeringly.  Porter,  bring 
a  table  and  we'll  have  a  feast.  There's 
cake  here,  too,  Gordon. " 

"And  bananas!  Say,  Prue,  who's  your 
friend?" 

"I  wish  I  knew,"  she  laughed.  "Who- 
ever he  is,  he's  saved  one  life  tonight.  You 
sii     iCre,  Auntie,  and — " 

*  indeed,  I  shan't  touch  the  awful  things!" 
sniffed  Miss  Pearse.  "And,  what's  more, 
I  forbid  you  to. " 

"Aunt  Mildred,  you  may  forbid  and  for- 
bid," laughed  Prue,  "but  I'm  certainly 
going  to  eat.  Gordon  dear,  get  some  water 
in  the  glass.  Leone,  what  do  you  want, 
chicken  or  ham?" 

"It  makes  no  mattci*,"  replied  the  maid, 
"I  am  so  veree  hongaree." 

"It  makes  a  lot  of  matter  here,"  cried 
103 


.^n^'-'^l^ 


/  z? 


iji 


■ ' 


i 

■/,,   '-^^^ 

^., 

ij  \  1  • 

1 

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f        i-'^\ 

' 

c 

.  }■   i 

J 

\  ^>  A 

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)    <  '.    *  ■ 

'fi 

!.  h 


%- 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

Gordon.  "I  want  a  ham,  Prue,  a  big  one, 
too.  That's  a  rhyme.  Gee,  they're  good! 
Who  do  you  suppose  sent  'em,  Prue.?  May- 
be it  was  that  conductor.  I  saw  him  look- 
ing at  you,  sis!" 

"  Did  you.'' "  she  laughed.  "  Auntie  dear, 
try  one  of  these?  They're  perfectly  delici- 
ous. " 

Aunt  Mildred  viewed  the  proffered  sand- 
wich distrustfully. 

"No,  I  shall  take  an  orange." 

"Oranges  come  later,  for  dessert,"  said 
Prue.  "Sandwiches  first.  Please  just  try 
it." 

"We-ell,  I  suppose  we  might  as  well  all 
die  together  I     Just  a  little  piece  of  it,  dear. " 

"No,  all  or  none,"  said  Prue  firmly. 
"Think  how  you'd  feel  if  you  lingered  on 
for  an  hour  or  so  after  the  rest  of  us  had 
gone ! " 

"Prue!  You  do  say  such  awful  things! 
I'll  never  be  able  to  swallow  this  now!" 

But  she  did,  and  followed  it  with  a  second 
and  ate  a  whole  orange.     And  in  ten  minutes 

104 


-«iv 


I! 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

there  was  nothing  left  of  the  banquet  but 
crumbs  and  fruit  p-  ;lings  and  the  porter 
was  summoned  to  remove  the  table.  Prue 
tore  a  corner  from  the  brown  paper  and  sat 
down  with  a  pencil  in  her  hand. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  sis?"  asked 
Gordon  with  Uvely  interest. 

"Send  a  note  of  thankS;  dear. " 

"Prue!  Why,  you  don't  know  who  he 
may  be!"  remonstrated  her  aunt. 

"Who  he  is  doesn't  matter,  Auntie. 
Please  don't  begin  to  be  prudish  just  be- 
cause you're  back  in  New  England.  I 
thought  I'd  broken  you  of  that,  dear. 
Porter,  is  the  gentleman  who  sent  the 
things  on  this  train.?" 

"Yes'm,  I  reckon  he  is." 

"I  say,  porter,"  demanded  Gordon," was 
it  the  conductor?  " 

"I  dunno,  sir,  whether  it  was  or  not." 

"You    don't    know!"    exclaimed    Aunt 

Mildred  sharply.     "Do  you  mean  to  say 

you  don't  know  your  own  conductor  when 

you  see  him?" 

105 


I'. '  ) 


I 


r 


Ir^ 


"^ 


./; 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Yes'm,  I  know  it  wasn't  him.  He 
might  be  a  conductor,  though. 

"What  did  he  look  Uke?"  asked  Prue. 

'*I  sorter  forget.  Miss.  Didn't  notice 
specially.  Miss." 

"Oh,  then  you  wouldn't  know  him  if  you 
saw  him  again.'" 

"No,  ma'am." 

"I'm  sorry  because  I  wanted  you  to  take 
this  note  to  him. " 

The  porter  looked  at  the  scrap  of  folded 
paper  and  rubbed  his  head  reflectively. 

"Well,  Miss,  you  give  it  to  me  an'  maybe 
I'd  know  him  if  I  was  to  look  mighty  sharp." 

Prue  smiled. 

**Ver\'  well,  porter,  you  look  sharp  and 
refresh  your  memory.  And  if  you  should 
find  him  give  him  this.  You  may  take 
the  table  away,  please. " 

Wade  was  just  sUpping  off  into  Ught 
slumber  when  the  porter  aroused  him.  He 
sat  up  and  took  the  scrap  of  paper,  leaning 
forward  until  the  light  fell  on  the  penciled 
writing. 

106 


V 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"The  ladies  present  their  oompliments   to  their 
unknown  benefactor  and  thank  hiin  most  cordially. 
"They  thought  he  had  missed  the  train." 

Wade  smiled  blissfully  and  dove  his  hand 
into  his  pocket. 

"Here  you  are,  porter.  And  look  here; 
you  look  after  those  ladies  the  best  you 
know  how;  understand?  If  you  don't,  I'll 
just  about  lay  you  out!" 

The  porter  grinned  cheerfully  as  he 
dropped  the  coin  in  his  pocket. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  hear  you.  I'll  look  after  'em, 
sir,  don't  you  worr;  Good  night,  sir. 
Sorry  1  can't  have  you  in  my  car;  this  is 
mighty  mean  'commodate  is  for  a  gentle- 
man. " 

The  subtle  accent  on  the  word  gentleman 
really  merited  further  emolument,  but 
Wade  was  eager  to  be  left  alone.  When 
the  porter  had  gone  he  re-read  the  note, 
looked  at  it  from  every  angle,  read  it  again, 
and  then  finally  furtively  pressed  his  hps 
to  it  and  tucked  it  carefully  away  in  his 
pocket-book.     After  that,  curled  up  on  his 

107 


-,  »■»  ^T-TV 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

seat,  with  the  drafts  playing  tag  about  him, 
he  lay  staring  at  the  light  overhead  until 
long  after  midnight,  contentment  of  mind 
more  than  equalizing  bodily  discomfort. 


y 


J'' 


II 


V 


/  - 


108 


IX 


THEY  pulled  into  Sherbrooke  over 
an  hour  late  with  the  snow  falling 
busily  out  of  a  low  and  leaden  sky. 
It  was  only  a  little  more  than  half- 
past  eight  then,  but  Wade  had  been  awake 
ever  since  six  o'clock,  and  awake  a  good 
deal  before  that,  and  as  soon  as  the  train 
came  to  a  stop  in  front  of  the  station  he 
was  out  and  plowing  through  the  snow  to 
the  dining  room.  A  cup  of  :>teaming  hot 
coffee  set  him  right  and,  preferring  to  eat 
his  breakfast  at  his  leisure,  he  transferred 
his  bag  to  the  New  York  sleeper.  The 
Boston  and  Maine,  with  its  proverbial 
solicitude  for  its  patrons'  comfort  and  con- 
venience, ran  no  sleeping  car  through  from 
Boston  to  Quebec,  but  required  passengers 
to  arise  in  the  early  morning  and  change 
to  the  New  York  sleeper,  thus  acquiring 

109 


f.^ 


^r-:jK- 


t.  i 


^i 


if 

I: 


I: 


/ 


v.. 


^/ 


N 


r. 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

exercise  and  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  both  of 
which  are  of  course  beneficial.  If  the  New 
York  sleeper  was  full,  Boston  passengers 
."  f.  rode  the  rest  of  the  distance  to  Quebec,  a 
^  '  '  matter  of  five  hours  or  so,  in  a  day  coach. 
This  saved  them  money,  and,  in  theory  at 
least,  taught  patience  and  fortitude. 

Luckily  for  Miss  Pearse's  party  and  for 
Wade,  who  proveii  to  be  the  only  passengers 
bound  for  Quebec,  the  New  York  sleeper 
otfered  this  morning  plenty  of  space.  When 
Wade  entered  he  found  the  quartette  en- 
sconced in  a  section  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  car  from  the  seat  assigned  to  him. 
Disposing  of  his  bag  and  coat,  he  went 
down  the  aisle  to  find  the  porter  and  order 
breakfast.  .Vs  he  passed  he  sought  Prue's 
eyes  and  found  them,  but  they  accoided 
him  a  mere  uninterested  glance  without  a 
flicker  of  recognition.  He  was  disappointe<i, 
and  when,  after  ordering  his  breakfast  at 
the  door  o(  the  butfet,  he  returned  to  his 
seat  he  avoided  glancing  toward  her.  From 
where  he  sat  he  could  onlv  see  the  top  of 

no 


-A 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

her  hat,  and  he  reflected  that  the  joumerf - 
promised  to  be  rather  dull  and  uninterest- 
ing. He  considered  having  the  conductor 
change  his  seat  to  one  in  the  middle  of  the 
car  on  the  other  side,  since  there  were 
empty  seats  there,  but  decided  not  to.  He 
didn't  want  her  to  think  that  he  was  trying 
to  flirt  with  her.  After  he  had  eaten  his 
breakfast,  however,  his  spirits  rose  again. 
He  bought  a  morning  paper  and  retired  to 
the  smoking  room.  As  it  was  a  Montreal 
paper  he  had  soon  exhausted  its  powers  of 
entertainment.  Then  for  a  while  he  watched 
the  snowy  landscape.  The  train  ran 
smoothly  and  noiselessly  between  banks  of 
crisp,  immaculate  snow  thrown  up  by  the 
plows.  The  big,  listless,  leisurely  flakes 
blotted  out  the  distances  and  the  gray  sky 
st'emed  very  near.  Someone  entered  and 
took  a  seat  opposite  and  Wade  glanced 
across.  It  was  the  boy.  He  had  brought 
a  magazine  with  him  and  was  turning  the 
pages  uninterestedly,  seemingly  more  atten- 
tive to  the  advertisements  than  the  reading 

111 


^U 


N  ;     \ 


'J  ■■'}  ■' 


'•-'  , 


L 


r 


->ji 


.J- 


..'V 


■■■■■  »■.-. 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

matter.  Once  or  twice  he  shot  a  specula- 
tive glance  at  Wade.  He  was  a  nice-look- 
ing lad  of  apparently  thirteen,  with  clear 
blue  eyes,  a  fresh,  healthy  complexion  and 
brown  hair  slicked  straight  back  from  his 
forehead  in  a  way  that  added  to  the  ingenu- 
ousness of  his  expression.  His  Ukeness  to 
the  Girl  was  so  patent  that  Wade  warmed 
to  him  at  once. 

"How's  everything  at  Groton?"  he  asked. 
Gordon  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"All  right,  sir.  How'd  you  know  I  was 
from  Groton,  though?" 

"Perhaps  I  can  tell  a  Groton  man  when 
I  see  one,"  repUed  Wade  smilingly.  "I 
went  to  St.  Mark's  myself. " 

"  Did  you?  "  asked  the  boy  eagerly.  "  Did 
you  play  football?" 

"Yes,  I  was  on  the  team  three  years  and 
we  licked  you  twice  in  that  time. " 

"Gee,  that  must  have  been  a  long  while 
ago!  You  don't  do  it  very  often  nowa- 
days." 

"That's  so;  you  chaps  are  too  much  for 
112 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


^\ 


US.  Still,  we  got  you  again  this  year,  I 
think?" 

Gordon  nodded  gloomily.  "Yes,  six  to 
nothing.     Did  you  see  it?" 

"  No,  I  was  in  Colorado  then.  What  form 
are  you  in?" 

"Second,  sir.  What  position  did  you 
play?" 

"Left  ta  ivle  and  guard.  That  was  away 
back  in  ninety-four,- five  and — six;  rather 
before  your  time. "  Gordon  pondered,  look- 
ing interestedly  across. 

"Did  they  play  the  game  about  the  way 
we  play  it  now,  sir? " 

"N-no,  those  were  the  days  of  the  mass- 
plays,  the  flying-wedge  and  guards  back. 
And  I'm  enough  of  an  old-timer  to  think 
that  football  then  was  a  heap  more  interest- 
ing than  it  is  now. " 

Gordon  took  up  the  cudgels  for  "new 
football"  and  they  threshed  it  out  between 
them.  Then  Wade  told  some  stories  of  the 
old  days  at  St.  Mark's,  and  Gordon,  not  to 
be  outdone  by  a  representative  of  the  rival 

113 


o 


~Nvl, 


t^ 


^IT"'-  'r-  CY&- 


v^ 


'    '^>^- 


-Vv 


-<r^,;-/9r 


^J-^ 


a: 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


.^' 


'^^'  . 


school,  narrated  a  few  Groton  legends,  and 
by  that  time  the  entente  cordial  was  firmly 
established.  It  wasn't  difficult  to  turn  the 
conversation  in  the  direction  Wade  desired 
and  he  was  soon  in  possession  of  much 
information  regarding  his  traveling  com- 
panions. 

The  boy's  name  was  Gordon  Herrick 
Burnett  and  he  lived  in  New  York  with  his 
sister  Prue  and  his  Aunt  Mildred.  His 
parents  were  both  dead  and  Aunt  Mildred 
was  his  guardian.  "She  was  Prue's  guar- 
dian, too,  until  last  year.  Now  Sis  is  her 
own  boss.  Wish  I  was!  She  can  do  just 
as  she  pleases. '  * 

They  were  going  to  Quebec  for  the  holi- 
days on  his  account.  He  had  never  been 
there,  but  Trask,  a  fellow  in  his  class,  had 
told  him  about  it  and  he  guessed  it  must  be 
lots  of  fun.  "  They  have  a  skating  rink  and 
two  or  three  toboggan  slides,  and  there's  a 
place  called  Montmorency  where  you  go 
and  coast  on  sleds.  And  you  can  snow-shoe, 
too.     Did  you  ever  do  that,  sir?" 

114 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Yes,  we  uae  snow-shoes  a  good  deal  in 
the  mountains  in  winter."  Gordon  hesi- 
tated a  moment.    Then, 

"I  don't  suppose  you're  going  to  stay  in 
Quebec,"  he  observed  anxiously. 

"  I  expect  to  be  there  over  Christmas,  at 

least. " 

"Really?  Then— then  would  you  show 
me  about  snow-shoeing,  sir?  I  never  could 
do  it  right." 

"I'll  show  you  what  I  know,"  said  Wade, 
"if  you'll  initiate  me  into  the  mysteries  of 
tobogganing. " 

"You  bet!     Haven't  you  ever  done  any 
of  that?     Gee,  it's  the  best  fun  there  is! 
Trask  says  they  have  a  slide  right  outside 
the    hotel,    but    maybe    he's    lying.     I'm 
going  skeeing,  too.     Ever  try  that,  sir? 
Wade  owned  that  he  hadn't. 
"Neither  have  I.    But  they  say  it's  lots 
of  sport.     Guess  the  first  thing  I'll  have  to 
do  is  to  buy  some  things;  snow-shoes,  skees, 
maybe  a  toboggan,  but  I  guess  Prue's  going 
to  give  me  one  for  Christmas.     Say,  we're 

115 


>. 


\^ 


/ 


/  /-  ^- 


\  .' 


s-»*' 


y/ 


".f-*-,- 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

going  to  have  a  Christmas  tree,  Prue  says. 
Won't  that  be  dandy?  Of  course,  trees  are 
for  kids,  I  guess,  but  I  like  them,  don't 
you?" 

"Very  much." 

"Yes,  they're  so  kind  of— of  Christ- 
masy;  they  smell  o>  good,  don't  they. 
Would  you  care  to  come  to  my  tree,  do  you 
think,  sir?" 

"I'd  like  to  very  much,"  answered  Wade 
gravely.  "I  haven't  been  to  a  Christmas 
tree  for  a  long  time.  Perhaps,  though, 
your  sister  wouldn't  ca'*e  to  have  a  stranger." 

"She  won't  mind,"  said  Gordon  careless- 
ly. "She's  a  good  sport,  sis  is.  I'll  speak 
to  her  about  it.    Are  you  going  to  our  hotel?  " 

"Maybe.     Which  one  is  yours?" 

"  I  mean  the  one  \v  e're  going  to.  I  forget 
the  name  of  it,  but  it's  the  biggest  one  there. 
Have  you  been  to  Quebec  before,  sir?" 

"No,  this  is  my  first  visit." 

"Mine  too.  I  hope  we'll  like  it,"  said 
Gordon  gravely.  "Are  you — ^are  you  going 
up  alone,  sir?" 

116 


CI  PID  EN  ROUTE 

"Quit*"  alone." 

"Maybe,  though,  you  know  folks  there." 

•'Not  a  soul."     Gordon  brightened. 

"Then — then  maybe  you  and  I  might — 
might—"  He  paused  in  slight  embarrass- 
ment. 

"Might  chum  together,  you  mean?" 
asked  Wade  smilingly.  "Suppose  we  do. 
I  'd  like  it  first  rate. " 

"So  would  I,  sir.  We  could  go  snow- 
shoeing  and  tobogganing  and  skeeing  and 
have  a  pretty  good  time  I  should  think. 
Guess  I'd  better  go  back  now.  I — I'll  see 
you  later. "  He  smiled  shyly  and  went  out 
with  his  delightful  school-boy  swagger.  He 
had  forgotten  his  magazine  and  Wade  picked 
it  up  and  strove  to  interest  himself  in  a 
Christmas  story.  But  he  soon  decided 
that  his  own  thoughts  were  preferable,  and, 
lighting  his  pipe,  he  smoked  and  watched 
the  pearl-gray  world  slip  by  the  car  window, 
and  let  his  thoughts  lead  him  where  they 
would.  But  they  didn't  take  him  far 
afield;  no  farther,  in  fact,  than  the  length 

117 


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^^^^1 

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■  1 

. 

s* 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

of  the  car.  An  hour  went  by  and  the  boy 
returned. 

"I  left  my  magazine,"  he  announced. 
But  having  recovered  it  he  lingered  and, 
finding  encouragement  in  Wade's  smile, 
seated  himself  again. 

"It's  all  right  about  the  Christmas  tree," 
he  announced.  "  I  told  Prue  and  she  said  I 
could  invite  you  if  I  wanted  to.  Aunt 
Mildred  wanted  to  know  who  you  were, 
though.  Would  you  mind  telling  me,  sir? 
It  doesn't  make  any  difference  to  me,  of 
course,  but  Aunt  Mildred  is  sort  of  fussy  and 
old-maidish. " 

"My  name,"  laughed  Wade, "is  Forbes, 
Wade  Forbes." 

"Forbes,"  repeated  the  boy,  memorizing. 
"Thank-you.     I'll  tell  her. " 

"She  may  want  to  know  more  than  that, 
though,  so  you  can  tell  her  that  I  am  a 
mining  man,  come  of  a  respectable  Northern 
New  York  family,  reside  at  present  in  Colo- 
rado and  am  on  a  vacation." 

"I  told  her  about  your  being  a  St.  Mark's 

118 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

fellow,"  said  Gordon.  "Did  you  go  to 
cOi'ege,  sir?" 

"  I'es,  Ilarvard;  Lawrence  Scientific;  Class 
of  1901.  T  iuppose  your  sister — Miss  Bur- 
iiiii  wasr  ;. — er — especially  curious  about 
me?" 

"Oh,  no,  sis  isn't  a  crank,"  replied  Gor- 
don cheerfully.  "It's  just  Aunt  Mildred. 
Sis  says  it's  because  she  was  born  in  New 
England,  but  I  suppose  that's  just  a  joke. 
I  like  New  England,  myself.     Do  you?" 

"I  think  so;  I  used  to. " 

"I'm  going  to  Yale.  That's  in  New- 
England,  too,  isn't  it?  I  don't  see  why 
Connecticut  should  be  in  New  England  and 
New  York  not;  do  you?" 

"It  does  seem  rather  puzzling,"  said 
Wade. 

"I  wonder  what  time  it  is."  Gordon 
produced  a  silver  watch  with  a  dangling 
leather  fob  adorned  with  the  Groton  seal. 
"Gee,  it's  most  twelve.  I'm  awfully  hun- 
gry.    Wish  there  was  a  dining  car  on,  don't 

you?    All  they  have  here  is  baked  beans 

119 


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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


I  ^ 


and  corn-beef  hash  and  eggs.  Guess  I  can 
eat  most  anything  today,  though."  He 
paused  and  chuckled.  "A  funny  thing 
happened  last  night, "  he  confided.  "  Prue 
and  Aunt  Mildred  were  late  getting  into 
Boston;  there  was  an  awful  wreck  on  the 
line  somewhere  near  New  London,  you  see; 
so  we  didn't  have  time  to  get  anything  to 
eat.  And  we  were  all  just  about  starving. 
We  tried  to  get  the  porter  to  go  out  at  one 
of  the  stations  and  bring  us  something  but 
he  said  there  wasn't  time.  I  don't  believe 
I  ever  was  so  hungry!  And  then  what  do 
you  think?" 

Wade  shook  his  head. 

"Someone  sent  us  a  lot  of  sandwiches 
and  fruit  and  cake!  The  porter  brought 
them  and  he  wouldn't  tell  who  it  was  sent 
them.  I  bet,  though,  it  was  that  fresh 
conductor.  I  saw  him  making  up  to  sis. 
The  porter  said  it  wasn't  him,  but  I  bet  it 
was,  just  the  same." 

"  Well,  whoever  he  was  he  saved  the  day, 

I  guess." 

120 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"You  bet!  Gee,  those  sandwiches  were 
good!"  He  smiled  rerainiscently.  Then, 
"What  do  you  do  when  you're  a  miner, 
sir?"  he  asked.     "Do  you  dig  up  gold?" 

After  that  for  a  half-hour  the  conversa- 
tion had  to  do  with  mining  and  miners,  and 
Gordon  was  intensely  interested  in  all  that 
Wade  told  him.  Some  of  the  stories  made 
his  eyes  sparkle. 

"  Gee,  I  believe,  I'll  be  a  miner  when  I  get 
through  college,"  he  exclaimed.  "It  must 
be  lots  of  fun.  And  a  fellow  could  get 
pretty  rich,  couldn't  he,  if  he  discovered  a 
good  mine?"  He  observed  Wade  admir- 
ingly. "I  suppose  you've  got  a  lot  of  gold, 
sir?" 

"A  little,"  Wade  laughed.  "But  good 
mines  aren't  so  easy  to  find,  my  boy.  And 
it's  a  pretty  hard  life,  take  it  all  around. " 

"I'd  like  it,"  declared  Gordon  emphatic- 
ally. "I'd  like  to  travel  around  like  that 
and  look  for  gold  or  silver.  That  would  be 
a  lot  of  fun.    Then,  if  I  didn't  find  a  mine, 

I  could  buy  one. " 

121 


\ 


1 


CUPID  F      ROUTE 


i- 


%  i.. 


"Good  ones  are  rather  high,  though," 
said  Wade  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,  hut  you  see,  sir" — Gordon  looked 
apologetic — "you  see  I'll  have  a  lot  of  money 
when  I'm  twenty-one.  Aunt  Mildred  says 
I'll  have  more  than  is  good  for  me  and  Prue 
says  I  nmst  learn  how  to  take  care  of  it. 
It'll  be — "  he  hesitated,  eying  Wade  doubt- 
fully as  though  not  certain  whether  their 
friendship  yet  warranted  such  confidences 
— "it'll  be  pretty  near  two  million  dollars, 
1  guess." 

Wade  opened  his  eyes. 

"Well,  that  is  some!  I  guess  your  sister 
is  right,  my  boy;  you  want  to  learn  just 
what  money  means  before  that  comes  to 
you.  I  don't  suppose — your  sister  has 
anything  like  that  much.'" 

But  Gordon  nodded,  gazing  gravely  out 
of  the  window. 

"Yes,  she  got  half,  sir.  Sis  says  it's  a 
nuisance,  having  so  much  money.  But  I 
guess  that's  just  because  she's  a  woman  and 
doesn't    understand    business.     And    then, 

122 


%n 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

men  are  always  bothering  her,  too.  You 
see,  they  know  she's  got  it  and  they  want 
to  marry  her.  I  suppose  that  worries  her, 
don't  you?" 

"I  should  think  it  might,"  answered 
Wade  thoughtfully.  "She — er — she  hasn't 
decided  to  marry  any  of  them,  yet,  then.^" 

"Don't  believe  so.  Aunt  Mildred's  al- 
ways after  her  to  get  married  but  she  says 
she  isn't  going  to.  I  guess  she  will,  though, 
some  day.  She's  turned  down  some  cork- 
ing chaps,  too. " 

"Has  she.'*"  murmured  Wade. 

"Yes.  I  guess  if  she  marries  anyone 
it'll  be  Kingdon  Smith.  He's  awfully  sweet 
on  her  and  she  likes  him  pretty  well,  I  guess. 
Do  you  know  him?  He's  the  crack  polo 
player,  you  know. " 

"I've  heard  of  him  but  have  never  met 
him.     It  isn't  definitely  decided,  then?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  so.  Say,  I'm  going 
to  make  'em  order  lunch.  I'm  beastly 
hungry.  Good-bye,  Mr.  Forbes.  I'll  tell 
Aunt  Mildred  all  about  you. " 

123 


y-4 


w 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


^ 


"Thank  you,"  said  Wade  gravely. 

When  the  boy  had  gone  he  pursed  his 
lips  for  a  whistle  that  ended  in  a  groan. 

"Of  all  the  miserable  luck!"  he  mutter- 
ed. "  Why  in  Heaven's  name  does  she  have 
to  be  a  millionairess?"  He  smiled  ruefully 
at  his  pipe.  "Dave,  I  guess  your  gold 
water  pitcher  is  quite  safe!" 

He  returned  presently  to  his  seat  in  the 
car,  the  savor  rather  gone  out  of  the  adven- 
ture, and  had  his  luncheon.  As  he  ate  he 
could  just  see  the  top  of  the  girl's  head  above 
the  backs  of  the  seats  down  the  car.  Per- 
haps it  was  this  scant  view  of  her,  or  per- 
haps it  was  the  luncheon,  at  all  events  he 
returned  to  the  smoking  room  afterwards 
for  his  cigar  in  a  more  cheerful  frame  of 
mind. 

"After  all,"  he  reflected,  "she's  just  a 
woman,  millions  or  no  millions.  And  even 
if  I  can't  play  polo,  I'm  as  good  a  man  as 
Kingdon  Smith.  Besides,  I  'm  here  and  he 
isn't!" 

The  train  slowed  down  and  for  a  minute 

124 


KH 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

ran  cautiously  between  the  banks  of  crisp, 
clean  snow  tossed  aside  by  the  plows.  It 
had  been  snowing  hard  for  an  hour  or  more 
and  it  was  evident  that  every  mile  of  north- 
ward progress  increased  the  dilficulties  of 
travel.  A  water-tank  slipped  slowly  by 
the  window  and  was  followed  by  a  tiny 
station  on  the  platform  of  which  three  fur- 
coated  and  gayly  sashed  habitants  watched 
the  train  with  incurious  eyes.  Wade  read 
the  sign,  "St.  Anselme,"  and  then,  with  a 
series  of  diminishing  jerks  the  train  came  to 
a  stop.  There  was  the  whistle  of  releasing 
brakes  and  a  great  stillness  settled 
down.  The  only  sound  that  reached  him 
was  the  faint  murmur  of  voices  from  the 
car.  Outside  the  window  the  flakes  fell 
straight  and  silently  from  a  gray  void, 
hushing  the  world  and  hiding  it  from  sight. 
Wade  sought  his  time-table.  St.  Anselme 
was  not  a  scheduled  stop.  He  glanced  at 
his  watch  and  found  that  the  time  was  three 
minutes  past  two.  At  this  rate,  he  told 
himself,  they  were  not  likely  to  reach  Que- 

125 


M 


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r 


Mr- 


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5^ 


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A 


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I  CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

bee  mueh  before  dark;  they  had  left  Beauce 
thirty  minutes  ago,  all  of  two  houn  late,  and 
it  was  safe  to  say  that  they  had  been  losing 
time  steadily  ever  since.  Well,  it  mattered 
little,  he  reflected,  and  settled  himself  back 
against  the  cushion,  half-drowsily  watch- 
ing the  purple-gray  smoke  of  his  cigar 
billow  up  into  the  cold  white  light  of  the 
windows.  Ten  minutes  passed  and  the 
opening  of  a  door  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
car  aroused  him.  Presently  the  conduc- 
tor passed  the  smoking-room  and  Wade 
hailed  him. 

"The  track  between  here  and  St.  Henri 
Junction  isn't  clear  yet,  sir,"  the  conductor 
explained  patiently.  "I  think  we'll  be 
held  up  here  at  least  an  hour,  sir.  Sorry, 
but  we'll  get  into  Quebec  in  plenty  of  time 
for  supper. " 

Wade  grunted  skeptically  as  the  conduc- 
tor vanished  with  a  smile  that  at  once  dis- 
claimed responsibility  and  begged  indul- 
gence. Wade  went  out  into  the  car  and 
got  his  coat  and  slipped  it  on.     A  glance 

126 


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'SHK    CAST    A     Kl.KKTINC    (iJ.AXfK 
AS    HIIK     \\  KNT    BY  " 


i 


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.--i""S 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

at  the  group  farther  along  told  him  that 
boredom  held  them  fast.    Outside  Wade 
found  that  the  train  was  standing  a  hundred 
feet  north  of  the  little  station.     It  was  good 
to  get  out  into  the  air  even  if  the  flakes  came 
thick  enough  to  blind  one,  and  for  a  time 
he  strolled  back  and  forth  along  the  short 
length  of  platform.     Then  he  returned  to 
his  car,  and  as  he  paused  in  the  vestibule  to 
shake  the  snow,  the  girl  and  her  brother  came 
out  and  went  by  him  down  the  steps.     The 
girl  had  put  on  her  fur  coat  and  a  little 
rowdyish  felt  hat  whose  down-turned  rim 
almost  hid  her  face  from  sight.     She  cast 
a  fleeting  glance  as  she  went  by  and  the 
boy    smiled    understandingly    at    his    new 
acquaintance.     Wade  routed  a  book  from 
his  bag  and  settled  himself  again  in  the 
smoking-room,  wishing  the  while  that  he 
had  delayed  his  outing  until  now.    A  half- 
hour  passed  quietly.    Once  or   twice   the 
door  at  the  other  end  of  the  car  opened  and 
shut.    The  conductor  passed  the  smoking- 
room  once  and  a  ruddy-faced  man  whom 

127 


V*» 


.  v 


\ 

.#/- 


1  ■ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

Wade  had  previously  discovered  to  be  the 
manager  of  an  asbestos  mine  down  the  line 
wandered  in  and  went  promptly  to  sleep  in 
a  comer.  Then  Wade  looked  up  from  his 
book  to  find  Gordon  observing  him  from 
the  doorway. 

"  Well,  we're  not  getting  along  very  fast, 
are  we?"  asked  Wade  with  a  smile. 

"No,  sir,"  answered  the  boy.  "I  guess 
we'll  be  lucky  if  we  get  there  in  time  for 
supper.  I  measured  the  snow  out  there 
and  there's  almost  a  foot  of  it  on  the  level. " 
He  caught  sight  of  the  slumbering  occupant 
o*  the  corner  and  lowered  his  voice.  "I 
wish  I  had  some  snowshoes  here. " 

"What  would  you  do?  Walk  the  rest  of 
the  way?" 

"No,  sir,"  he  replied  with  a  grin,  "but 
I'd  get  out  there  and  practise  using  them. " 
He  pulled  his  cap  down  onto  his  head  as  he 
prepared  to  go  on.  "  I'm  looking  for  Sis, " 
he  explained.  "She  went  back  to  send  a 
telegram. " 

Wade  nodded  and  then,  feeling  the  need 
128 


i  1 


CUPID  E     ROUTE 


of  stretching  his  legs,  tossed  his  book  aside 
and  walked  back  to  the  vestibule.  As  he 
reached  it  there  came  several  short,  hoarse 
blasts  from  the  engine.  The  vestibule  door 
was  still  open  and  Wade  leaned  out  and 
looked  up  the  track.  There  was  no  one  in 
sight,  but  the  engine  bell  clanged  faintly 
once  or  twice  and  then,  with  a  sUght  jerk 
the  train  began  to  move  forward.  Wade 
wondered  whether  they  were  really  off  at 
last  or  whether  they  were  merely  moving 
further  along  the  track  for  some  reason. 
But  his  doubts  were  soon  dispelled,  for  the 
train  gathered  speed  rapidly  and  in  a 
moment  the  clean-cut  bank  of  snow  beside 
the  track  was  flowing  smoothly  by.  With 
a  grunt  of  satisfaction  Wade  turned  his 
head  for  a  final  glimpse  of  the  little  settle- 
^  '^nt  behind.  What  he  saw  sent  his 
Land  upward  toward  the  signal-cord.  But 
as  his  fingers  touched  it  his  hand  drop- 
ped away  again.  There  was 
of   indecision,    and   then, 

on  the  lower  step,  Wade  p'^'led    his    cap 

129 


a  moment 
poising    himself 


/ 


■«:S^ 


^^    >- 


It 


•1 


!  ; 

;  i 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

down  firmly,  waited  his  opportunity  and 
leaped  out  toward  the  snowbank. 


1 


'-'■;    'J 


130 


\ 

.  1 


"  !"<  A, '  r  i     i 


^ 


:-h  V. 


hi 


THE  first  objects  to  meet  his  sight 
when  he  opened  his  eyes  a  moment 
later  were  his  feet  pointing  skyward 
at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five 
degrees.  He  had  an  indistinct  recollection 
of  having  turned  one  complete  somersault 
after  striking  the  bank.  Now  he  was  lying 
on  his  back  with  his  head  and  shoulders  far 
below  the  level  and  eyes,  nose  and  mouth 
filled  with  snow.  After  a  struggle  he  pulled 
his  body  up  and  his  feet  down,  and  then 
scrambled  and  slid  out  of  his  soft  couch  and 
gained  the  track.  Snow  had  worked  down 
his  neck  and  up  his  sleeves  and  into  his 
shoes,  and  for  awhile  he  was  busy  shaking 
himself  and  stamping  and  wiping  his  moist 
face  with  his  handkerchief,  and  when  he 
finally  looked  toward  the  station  platform 

131 


';•! 


I   ' 

if" 


■ 


^; 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

his  only  reward  was  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  a 
slim,  fur-coated  back  disappearing  into  the 
waiting-room. 

"I  wonder  if  she's  laughing?"  he  said  to 
himself.     "  Anyhow,  I  did  it ! " 

He  walked  back  along  the  track  to  the 
station,  smoothing  his  disarranged  attire 
and  striving  to  forget  that  the  melting  snow 
was  trickling  down  his  back.  When  he 
pushed  open  the  door  the  girl  was  speaking 
to  the  agent  through  the  little  window. 

"The  stupidest  thing  I  ever  knew!" 
she  was  saying.  "That  conductor  should 
have  told  me  that  the  train  was  leaving. 
Will  you  kindly  tell  me  how  I  am  going  to 
get  to  Quebec  now.?" 

"He  did  not  know,  I  think,  that  madame 
was  here,"  explained  the  agent,  gesticulat- 
ing excitedly,  behind  the  small  opening. 
"Me,  I  cannot  say  how  sorry  I  am  for 
madame.  I  will  telegraph  to  that  conduc- 
tor and  tell  him  what  madame  say,  that  he 
is  one  big  stupid,  one  fool,  one — Ah!" 
The  sound  of  the  closing  door  attracted  him 

132 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


and  he  saw  Wade.  "Madame,  the  train 
is  back!    All  right  now,  yes?" 

"No,  the  train  isn't  back,"  said  Wade. 
"I  left  it  as  it  pulled  out." 

"But  monsieur  is  a  friend  of  madame, 
yes?"  He  smiled  joyously  from  Wade  to 
the  girl.  "She  will  not  have  to  wait  here 
alone.  Tres  bien,  tres  bien!"  Wade  look- 
ed doubtfully  at  the  girl  and  received  the 
stoniest  of  glances.     But, 

"Yes,  I  am  a  friend  of  the  lady.  When 
does  the  next  train  pass  here  for  Quebec?" 

"At  eight-forty-seven,  monsieur,  if  on 
tipe. " 

"Eight-forty-seven!"    exclaimed    Wade. 

"Eight-forty-seven!"  cried  Prue.  "But 
I  can't  wait  all  that  time!    The  idea!" 

The  agent,  who  was  young  and  impres- 
sionable, looked  devastated  with  sorrow. 

"Madame,  I  regret,  me,  but  that  is  the 
first  train.  Madame  may  be  comfortable 
here  and  quite  warm,  and  it  is  to  wait  only 
four,  five  hours,  no?" 

"Only  four  or  five  hours!"  sighed  Prue. 
188 


l\ 


nil 


■n 


I 


i 

p: 
'ill- 


/^ 


.//. 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"In  this— this  place!"  She  glanced  dis- 
dainfully around  at  the  empty  benches  and 
the  cracked  walls  and  the  white-washed 
stove.  "Well,  I  suppose  if  I  must  wait,  I 
must.  Please  telegraph  to  the  conductor 
to  tell  my  party  that  I  am  all  right  and  will 
get  to  Quebec  at— what  time.  Agent?" 

"Nine-thirty,  madame.  Yes,  madame 
at  once,  instantly.  Have  no  care;  all  shall 
be  done. "  The  agent  smiled  ingratiatingly 
through  the  window,  but  if  he  hoped  to  win 
thanks  or  commendation  he  was  disappointed 
for  the  girl  turned  away  with  a  shrug  of  her 
shoulders  and  crossed  to  the  stove  where 
she  placed  one  small  foot  on  the  rail,  turning 
her  damp  shoe  from  side  to  side  and  appar- 
ently forgetting  the  presence  of  both  ♦^he 
agent  and  Wade. 

"Tell  the  conductor  to  look  after  my 
things  in  Section  Five,"  he  instructed  the 
agent.  "I  suppose  he'd  better  leave  them 
with  the  agent  at  Levis  and  I'll  get  them 
when  I  reach  there. " 

"Certainly,    monsieur,    certainlv.     And 
134 


m. 


•  f 


---:r!«» 


^^ 


■k'-^     .-v 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

believe  me,  monsieur,  I  am  sorry,  oh,  very 
sorry  for  so  stupid  a  mistake!  Anything 
I  can  do,  me,  I  will  be  so  glad;  monsieur 
has  only  to  say. " 

"Thanks.  Just  get  those  messages  off, 
please. " 

"  At  once,  this  moment,  monsieur ! "  The 
agent  disappeared  from  the  window  and 
the  instrument  began  to  click.  Wade  turn- 
ed and  surveyed  the  uncompromising  black 
fur  coat.  He  discovered  that  it  was  going 
to  require  a  good  deal  of  courage  to  do  what 
common  sense  and  ordinary  courtesy  as 
well  as  his  own  desire  demanded.  He 
approached  the  stove. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am,  Miss 
Burnett,"  he  began.  "That  conductor 
ought  to  be  tarred-and-feathered. " 

She  looked  across  at  him  coldly  and  dis- 
tantly for  a  brief  instant.  Then,  with  a 
slight  inclination  of  hci  .ead,  she  returned 
to  her  occupation  of  drying  her  shoe. 

"Four  or  five  hours  here  isn't  a  very 
cheerful   prospect,"   he   went   on,   "but   I 

135 


"A 


r 


■■^  \,Wj 


y,:^ 


1 
■ 


I 


X"' 


r 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

dare  say  we're  lucky  not  to  have  to  wait 
longer.  '* 

"Probably,"  she  said  uninterestedly. 

"It  was  quite  by  accident  that  I  looked 
back  and  saw  you,"  he  continued,  gaining 
courage  from  the  sound  of  his  own  voice. 
"In  another  moment  it  would  have  been 
too  late. " 

"Too  late?"  she  repeated  questioningly, 
glancing  at  him.     "Too  late  for  what?" 

"Why,  too  late  to  get  off.  You  see,  the 
train  was  already  making  pretty  good  time 
and  I  had  to  jump  between  the  telegraph 
poles. " 

"  It  was — very  heroic  of  you, "  she  repUed 
with  a  wealth  of  sarcasm.     Wade  colored. 

"Well,  I  didn't  mean  that,"  he  said 
ruefully.  There  was  a  protracted  pause. 
Then  she  turned  toward  him,  tilting  her 
head  back  so  that  she  could  see  from  under 
the  brim  of  her  felt  hat.  It  was  a  charm- 
ing pose,  he  reflected,  but  a  fearsomely 
haughty  one.  She  was  viewing  him  with 
something    almost    approaching    interest, 

186 


H  ■( 


*,;.-' 


^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

and  when  she  spoke  her  voice  was  almost 
affable. 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  "you'll  be  good 
enough  to  tell  me  in  what  way  you  con- 
sider that  you  have  bettered  the  situation 
by  throwing  yourself  into  a  snowdrift?" 

"Why — er — you  were  left  here  quite 
alone.  Miss  Burnett,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  perhaps  I  might  be  of  service — " 

"Really?  And  it  didn't  occur  to  you 
that  the  most  serviceable  thing  you  could 
have  done  would  have  been  to  pull  the  bell- 
cord?" 

Wade  flushed,  opened  his  mouth  and 
closed  it  again. 

"I  suppose  that  even  on  this  road  the 
trains  are  supplied  with  bell-cords?"  she 
went  on  in  half-smiling  irony. 

"I  think — yes,  they  are." 

"And  it  didn't  occur  to  you,  when  you 
saw  that  I  was  being  left  behind,  to  pull 
the  cord  and  stop  the  train?" 

Wade  dropped  his  gaze,  swallowed  hard 
and  temporized. 

137 


*  ^, 


y 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"I'll  confess.  Miss  Burnett,  that  in  the 
— the  confusion  of  the  moment  I  acted 
stupidly — " 

He  paused,  perhaps  hoping  for  something 
in  the  nature  of  a  contradiction.  But  Prue 
was  staring  indifferently  at  the  stove. 

"When  I  saw  you  alone  here  my  only 
thought  was  to— to — " 

"To  force  your  society  on  me,"  she 
finished  icily. 

Wade  bit  his  lip.  She  was  plainly  in  a 
very  bad  humor  and  he  was  in  danger  of 
losing  his  own  temper,  he  found.  Discre- 
tion indicated  retreat. 

"If  you  think  that, you  are  mistaken," 
he  said  frigidly.  "To  prove  that  I  have 
neither  desire  nor  intention  of  inflicting  my 
society  on  you,  Miss  Burnett,  I'll— with- 
draw." Withdraw  wasn't  just  the  word 
for  the  occasion,  but  it  was  the  only  one 
that  came  to  him.  Annoyed  by  the  reflec- 
tion that  he  had  spoken  like  the  hero  of  a 
melodrama  he  turned  toward  the  waiting- 
room  door. 

138 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


**t 


'  One  moment,  please ! "  Prue  was  facing 
him  with  a  dangerous  sparkle  in  her  dark 
eyes.  "You  say  you  had  no  thought  of 
inflicting  your  society  on  me,  Mister — 
Forbes,  is  it  not?"     Wade  bowed. 

"  My  desire  was  to  be  of  service  to  you,  ** 
he  answered. 

"And  you  didn't  think  of  stopping  the 
train?" 

Wade  hesitated.     Then, 

"I  did,"  he  answered  steadily. 

"But  instead  of  doing  it  you — "  She 
finished  with  a  shrug  of  her  slender  should- 
ers.    "Why,  Mr.  Forbes?" 

Wade  hesitated.  The  girl  smiled  dis- 
dainfully. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  say  that  your  presence 
on  the  train  from  New  York  and  on  the 
train  from  Boston  was  merely  accidental, 
Mr.  Forbes?" 

"No,  it  wasn't,"  he  answered.  "I  don't 
pretend  that  it  was.  I  followed  you  quite 
deliberately,  Miss  Burnett. " 


139 


*■■ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"And  you  call  that  gentlemanly  be- 
havior?" she  demanded. 

"Have  I  annoyed  you  at  any  time,  Miss 
Burnett?" 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  pleasant  or  agreeable 
to  a  girl  to  be  shadowed  by  a  total  stranger, 
Mr.  Forl)es?" 

"  I  don't  think  you  have  any  right  to  use 
the  word  'shadowed.'  That  suggests  spy- 
ing. I  haven't  spied  on  you.  I  haven't 
attempted  to  force  my  society  on  you — 
until  now,  and  that  was  done  thoughtlessly, 
on  the  moment's  impulse,  and  I  am  sorry 
for  it.  I  own  up  to  having  followed  you. 
What  else  could  I  do?  If  I  hadn't  I'd  have 
lost  sight  of  you  completely.  Miss  Bur- 
nett. " 

"Oh!" 

"Besides,"  he  went  on,  warming  to  his 
defence,  "the  fact  that  I  am  a  total  stranger 
isn't  my  fault.  I  don't  want  to  be  a  strang- 
er; that's  why  I  followed.  I  guess  it  seems 
rather  cheeky  to  you.  Miss  Burnett,  but 
if  you  stop  and  think  about  it  you'll  recog- 

140 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


ie 
r, 

ie 

y- 
't 

y 
i. 

'e 

p- 


nize  the  fact  that  what  I've  done  was  the 
only  thing  to  do. " 

"How  perfectly  absurd!"  she  said  im- 
patiently. "  What  right  have  you  to  think 
that  I — want  to  know  you?" 

"I  don't  suppose  you  do — ^yet.  But  I 
want  to  know  you.  Now  look  here,  Miss 
Burnett;  be  fair!  Wanting  to  know 
you  isn't  a  crime,  is  it?  Other  chaps  have 
wanted  the  same  thing,  and  I  dare  say 
they've  gone  about  much  as  I  have.  If 
they  haven't  pursued  you  from  New  York 
to  Quebec  it  is  because  they  haven't  had 
to.  But  I  dare  say  they've  schemed  and 
manoeuvred  in  the  city,  sought  invitations 
to  the  places  you  went  to  and  begged  intro- 
ductions. Well,  I  didn't  have  a  chance  to 
do  that.  While  I  was  trying  to  find  out 
where  you  lived,  and  who  you  were,  you 
started  off  on  this  trip.  If  I  had  stayed 
behind  and  waited  you  might  not  have 
come  back.  I  could  get  nothing  out  of 
that  close-mouthed  butler." 

She  flashed  a  startled  look  at  him. 
141 


t 


s 


Ni*^ 


n 


'H  I  I 


i?h,  I 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"You  went  to  the  house?"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Why  not?  "     He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"What  else  could  I  do?    You  were  leaving 

New  York  and  I  had  to  find  out  where  you 

were  going.  ** 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Prue 
studied  the  stove  frowningly.    Then, 

"May  I  inquire,  Mr.  Forbes,  what  part 
of  the  world  you  come  from?" 
"Colorado.     Why?" 

"Why?  Well,  it  explains  your— your 
absurd  conduct  in  a  measure,  don't  you 
think?"  she  replied  amusedly. 

"Don't  see  it,"  he  answered.  "I'd  have 
done  the  same  thing  if  I'd  Uved  in — ^in  New 
Jersey!" 

"I'm  afraid  you're  a  little  bit  stupid,  Mr. 
Forbes.  I  was  generously  providing  you 
with  an  excuse. " 

*I  don't  want  anj.  If  I  had  seen  you, 
as  I  did,  at  the  opera  the  other  night  and 
hadn't  wanted  to  know  you  I  might  have 
been  grateful  for  your  excuse.  Miss  Bur- 
nett." 

142 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

The  frown  deepened. 

"Mr.  Forbes,"  she  said  sweetly,  "you 
have  been  very  frank  with  me.  Now  it  is 
my  turn."  She  paused,  smiling  across  at 
him.  Wade  bowed  uneasily.  "You  have 
given  yourself  a  good  deal  of  trouble  so  far 
and  it  seems  rather  a  shame.  Perhaps  I 
ought  to  feel  flattered  that  you  consider 
me — shall  I  say  attractive? — enough  to  be 
worth  all  this  bother;  but  somehow,  I 
don't. "  She  wrinkled  her  forehead  charm- 
ingly and  glanced  mockingly  at  him. 
"Strange,  isn't  it?  And  now,  to  be  equally 
frank,  Mr.  Forbes,  I'm  going  to  tell  you 
something  that  will  save  you  all  further 
sacrifices  of  time  and  comfort.  It's  simply 
this;  I  haven't  the  slightest  desire  in  the 
world  to  make  your  acquaintance  any 
further,  and  I  sincerely  hope  that  this  will 
be  our  last  meeting.  That  is  both  frank 
and  plain,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Forbes?" 

Wade  smiled. 

"Absolutely,"   he  replied  calmly.    Her 
smile  gave  place  to  the  little  frown  again. 

143 


(CI 


(( 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

Possibly  his  total  lack  of  consternation  dis- 
appointed her. 

'Then  may  I  hope  that—" 
'I  will  remove  my  unwelcome  presence?" 
he  inquired  poHtely.  "You  may.  I'll  go 
in  just  a  minute.  As  this  is  to  be  our  final 
meeting,  Miss  Burnett,  you  won't  begrudge 
me  another  moment,  I'm  sure.  I  merely 
want  to  say  that  as  it  takes  two  to  make  a 
quarrel  so  it  needs  two  to  effect  an  eternal 
separation.  You  hope  that  we  won't  meet 
again,  but  I  hope  that  we  will — many 
times. " 

"Let  me  remind  you,"  she  returned, 
quite  as  poUtely,  "that  it  also  takes  two  to 
effect  a  meeting. " 

"Don't  think  that  I  mean  to  annoy  you. 
Miss  Burnett.  I  wouldn't  do  that  for 
anything  in  the  world.  But  you  mustn't 
expect  me  to  give  up  just  because  you  are 
angry  with  me  at  the  moment.  When  you 
get  to  thinking  it  over  calmly  you'll  see  that 
I  haven't  done  anything  very  dreadful. 
And  I  hope  that  after  awhile  you'll  be  will- 

144 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


ing  to  let  me  prove  that  I  am  not  quite  the 
— ^the  bounder  you  evidently  think  me  now. 
I'm  mighty  sorry  that  I've  started  wrong, 
sorry  that  I've  annoyed  you  when  that  was 
the  last  thing  in  my  mind  to  do.  I  plead 
guilty  to  selfishness  this  afternoon,  but  that 
is  all.  I  did  think  of  pulling  the  signal- 
cord  and  stopping  the  train.  But  the  pros- 
pect of  being  able  to  talk  to  you  and  spend- 
ing a  few  hours  in  your  company  got  the 
better  of  me.  I'm  sorry  and  I  beg  your 
pardon.  I  shall  be  outside  until  the  train 
comes.  If  you  should  want  anything,  please 
let  me  do  for  you  at  least  as  much  as  you 
would  allow  a  stranger  to  do.  I  promise 
you  that  I  will  not  attempt  to  presume  any 
further  on  your — ^good-nature." 

He  bowed,  turned  and  went  out  onto  the 
platform.  Prue's  gaze  followed  him  until 
the  door  had  closed.  Then  she  dropped 
her  eyes  to  the  point  of  the  shoe  on  the 
railing,  staring  at  it  with  a  puzzled  frown. 
Presently  her  face  cleared,  the  corners  of 
her  mouth  went  up  and  there  sounded  in 

145 


>     'I 


IH 


*    -^^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

the  quiet  room  a  sigh  that  somehow 
suggested  more  of  amusement  than  de- 
spair. 


146 


XI 


IT  had  been  about  three  o'clock  when 
the  train  had  sped  away  northward 
leaving  Prue  marooned  at  St.  Anselme. 
And  now  it  was  past  four  by  her  watch. 
For  an  hour  she  had  sat  on  the  bench  in  a 
comer  of  the  stuffy  little  room  and  stared 
through  the  snow-dimmed  windows.  She 
had  removed  her  coat  and  had  placed  it  be- 
hind her  to  soften  the  angles  of  the  uncom- 
promising bench.  She  had  heard  from 
Aunt  Mildred  by  telegraph,  a  calmly  per- 
turbed "^message  which  advised  her  of 
arrangements  to  meet  her  in  Quebec  on 
her  arrival  and  threatened  dire  punishment 
to  the  railroad  company.  The  conductor 
had  also  wired  the  agent  to  "look  after 
young  lady  left  at  your  station  and  forward 
her  on  Number  1,  care  of  conductor."    The 

147 


/ 


if 


K 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

agent  had  translated  the  first  part  of    the 
instructions  to  mean  that  he  was  to  supply 
entertainment,  but  his  well-intentioned  ef- 
forts to  engage  Prue  in  conversation  had 
met  with  no  success,  and  he  had  finally  re- 
treated again  to  his  compartment.     Once 
unmistakable  sounds  had  sent  Prue  hasten- 
ing to  the  door.     But  all  that  had  met  her 
gaze  was  a  snow-plow  and  locomotive  which, 
after  sighing  and  sobbing  in  front  of  the 
station  for  a  few  minutes,  had  disappeared 
again  into  the  storm. 

It  was  getting  dark  now,  and  the  agent 
reappeared  and  lighted  the  solitary  bracket 
lamp  beside  the  ticket  window.  Prue  piled 
her  fur  coat  behind  her,  rested  her  head 
against  it  and  closed  her  eyes.  Perhaps, 
she  thought,  she  might  be  able  to  sleep 
away  part  of  the  remaining  four  hours. 
But,  to  her  disappointment,  she  found  that 
she  was  not  the  least  bit  sleepy,  that  her 
eyes  wouldn't  even  remain  closed.  She 
wondered  what  had  become  of  the  obnox- 
ious Mr.  Forbes.     For  awhile  he  had  paced 

148 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


■'■:^ 


the  platform  and  she  had  seen  his  blurred 
form  pass  the  snow-splashed  windows  and 
heard  the  sound  of  his  steps  on  the  boards. 
But  that  had  ceased  long  since.  It  was  too 
bad  that  he  had  behaved  so  badly,  for  he 
was  really  quite  good-looking,  and — and 
attractive,  in  spite  of  his  sins.  She  almost 
wished  she  had  not  quarrelled  with  him; 
anyone's  society  would  be  preferable  to 
this  tiresome  isolation.  Perhaps,  after  all, 
she  had  been  unnecessarily  harsh  with  him; 
and  one  shouldn't  hold  Westerners  to  the 
civilized  standards  of  the  East.  Besides — 
and  her  cheeks  warmed  a  little  at  the  re- 
flection— she  hadn't  been  absolutely  guilt- 
less herself!  She  had  kept  one  of  his  roses 
that  evening  in  the  cab  and  had  deliberately 
let  him  see  it.  And  there  was  the  note 
she  had  written  thanking  him  for  the  lunch- 
eon, with  its  flirtatious  postscript!  That 
he  hadn't  taken  that  as  an  excuse  to  annoy 
her  with  attentions  proved  at  least  that  he 
was  a  gentleman.  In  fact,  until  this  after- 
noon he  had  really  done  nothing  very  much 

149 


■  li 

i 


^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

out  of  the  way.     But  to  deUberately,  mali- 
ciously sentence  her  to  five  or  six  hours  in 
this  dreary  waiting-room— well,  that  was 
unforgivable!      Even  if  he  had  done  it— 
for  the  reason  he  said— still  it  was  very 
wrong  of  him.    And  yet,  even  that  sin  held 
the  saving  grace  of  courage  and  audacity. 
She  had  witnessed  the  leap  from  the  moving 
train,  had  thrilled  with  horror  at  the  sight, 
had  stood  rooted  with  anxiety  until  he  had 
tumbled  unscathed  from  the  snowbank  and 
then  had  unconcernedly  turned  her  back 
to  show  him  how  utterly  indiflFerent  she 
was  to    his  fate!    Certainly,  she  reflected 
DOW,  It  must  have  taken  a  good  deal  of 
courage  to  risk  neck  and  Umb  m  that  man- 
ner, and  the  fact  that  he  had  done  it  merely 
because  he  wanted  to— well,  to  make  her 
acquaintance,  was  flattering.   On  the  whole, 
she  wasn't  sure  that  even  this  last  and 
greatest  sin  might  not  be  forgiven  him— in 
time.    What  annoyed  her  now  was  that 
the  sinner  apparently  eared  not  a  mite 
whether  he  was  forgiven  or  not!    It  was 

150 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

distinctly   selfish   and   unkind   of  him   to 
leave  her  here  all  alone! 

The  agent  closed  the  ticket-window  and 
presently  appeared  muffled  to  the  ears  in  a 
shaggy  bear-skin  coat.  He  locked  the 
office  door  and  mended  the  fire.  He  was, 
he  explained,  going  to  his  supper.  It  was 
customary  to  close  the  station  while  away, 
but  as  madame  was  here  he  would  leave  it 
open.   Madame  would  like  supper  presently  ? 

"Thank  you,  no,  I  am  not  hungry.  I 
can  get  something  on  the  train?" 

"Of  a  certainty,  if  madame  desires  to 
wait  so  long.  But  the  gentleman— ma- 
dame's  husband,  perhaps?  No?  The 
gentlemau  would  desire  supper?" 

"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know, "  answered  Prue 
indifferently.  "He  is  outside  somewhere. 
You  might  ask  him. " 

After  the  agent  had  gone  the  place  seemed 
loneUer  than  ever.  The  three  black  windows 
stared  at  her  gniesomely.  When  a  coal 
fell  in  the  stove  she  started  in  a  panic. 
She    looked    at   her   watch.     It    was    ten 

151 


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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

minutes  past  five.  There  remained  almost 
four  hours  longer  to  wait!  The  sound  of 
snow-deadened  footfalls  on  the  platform 
sent  her  heart  to  beating  agitatedly.  Sup- 
posing one  of  those  awful  rough-looking 
men  she  had  seen  on  the  platform  should 
enter!  She  would  be  simply  frightened  to 
death!  The  door  opened  a  little;  outside 
someone  stamped  heavily;  then  the  door 
swung  wider  open  and  a  great  red-bearded 
giant  strode  in.  He  wore  a  green  plaid 
Mackinaw  coat,  bound  at  the  waist  with  a 
red  and  yellow  sash,  a  woolen  cap  hid  the 
upper  part  of  his  face,  and  his  trousers  were 
tucked  into  felt-topped  lumberman's  boots. 
A  roll  of  blankets  was  strapped  to  his  back 
and  he  carried  a  canvas  bag.  He  closed 
the  door,  stowed  his  burdens  on  the  bench, 
and  advanced  to  the  stove.  In  the  act  of 
taking  off  his  big  mittens  he  glanced  across 
and  saw  the  huddled  figure  in  the  comer. 
Off  came  his  cap  with  a  sweep  and  the  red 
beard  and  mustache  parted  over  a  row  of 
big  white  teeth. 

152 


KL 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Bon  jour,  madame!" 

Prue,  with  fast-beating  heart,  managed 
a  murmured  response.  The  giant  rubbed 
his  chilled  hands  together  before  the  stove 
and  beamed  amiably  about  the  room. 
Finally  his  gaze  went  back  to  the  girl. 

"The  snow  she  come  hard,"  he  an- 
nounced with  another  flash  of  white  teeth. 
"This  one  ver*  bad  night,  no?" 

Prue  nodded:  It  would  never  do  to  let 
him  suspect  that  she  was  afraid.  She 
measured  the  distance  to  the  door. 

"Madame  waits  for  the  train?  She  is 
late  perhaps?" 

"Yes." 

"Vraiment!  She  bad  track.  She  bad 
road,  yes,  ver*  bad  road.  Me,  I  come  from 
Lacbas.  Forty-two  mile,  madame.  Ver' 
bad  march. " 

He  unwound  his  sash  and  opened  his 
thick  coat.  Into  one  pocket  after  another 
his  long  fingers  dipped.  At  last  he  found 
what  he  sought  and  left  the  stove  and  came 
straight  toward   Prue.    She   watched   his 

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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

approach  with  wide,  frightened  eyes,  rne 
•hand  at  her  heart.  If,  she  thought,  he 
came  near  she  should  scream !  What  was  it  he 
held  in  his  hand?  Not  a  pistol,  not  a  knife; 
something  small;  pebbles,  they  seemed; 
half  a  dozen  little  pebbles.  The  scream 
was  ready  to  come,  but  something  in  the 
expression  of  the  big,  homely  face  that 
smiled  down  on  her  held  it  back.  The 
giant  stretched  one  big  hand  toward  her. 

"Madame  like  the  spruce  perhaps?  Ver' 
good  spruce. " 

She  looked  at  the  little  lumps  of  spruce 
gum  and  shook  her  head  dumbly.  Then 
her  gaze,  passing  from  the  proffered  gift  to 
his  face,  saw  a  whitish  blur  at  a  window. 
Her  hand  dropped  from  her  heart  and  a 
little  laugh  of  relief  escaped  her.  She  held 
out  her  two  hands  and  the  giant  poured 
the  pebbles  into  the  pink  bowl  of  her 
palms.     He  laughed  with  pleasure. 

"Aha!  Madame  like  the  spruce!  All 
ladies  like  the  spruce.  Me,  I  know  how  to 
please   the   ladies!"    He   drew   back   and 

154 


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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

beamed  geniaUy  down  on  her.    "  You  chew 

her,  ye.?    Put  her  in  the  mouth,  so.    That 
la  it!  • 

Pnie  obediently  placed  one  of  the  pieces 
between  her  Ups  and  strove  to  smile  her 
appr^iation.  The  gi^  watched  deUght- 
edly  for  a  moment  f.o  i  .  t^ii  dorned  his  can 
and  buttoned  his  j.'   kt,. 

"Now,"  he  ar  .  .1  icJ.  •  I  .  ^ ,  et  me 
my  supper.  M  ,  r  i  u.  .v  )ul  boy." 
He  laughed  af  .a.  .s<.  ^i.rc.,;  at  his 
bundles,  bowe;  Pi.,,  ,, ;  ,iy  t^  Fr  le  and. 
with  a  final  display  •  ,-.,  ^^.^t  out. 
bhe  gaveasigh  of  relief  .u«  i,.okcd  .lubiously 
at  the  spruce  gum. 

"It  was  very  siUy  of  me."  she  thought. 

to  be  frightened.  But  I  didn't  know  that 
he  was  out  there."  She  looked  again  at 
the  window,  but  the  white  blur  was  gone. 
She  sighed.  Then  she  dropped  the  spruce 
gum  m  a  pocket  of  her  coat.  And  at  that 
moment  the  door  opened  again. 

This  time   it   was   Wade   who  entered. 
Inside  the  door  he  shook  the  snow    from 

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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

his  shoulders  and  turned  down  the   collar 
of  his  jacket. 

"  I  *m  afraid, "  he  said  apologetically, "  that 
I  shall  have  to   trespass,   Miss   Burnett. 
This  seems  to  be  the  only  place  there  is." 
"I  fancy,"  she  replied  very  coldly,  "you 
have  as  much  right  here  as  I  have."    She 
watched  him  approach  the  stove  and  stretch 
his  bare  hands  to  the  warmth.    Even  across 
the  room  and  in  the  dim  light  she  could  see 
how  they  shook.     Suddenly  she  sat  up  very 
straight  on  the  bench. 
"Mr.  Forbes!" 
"Yes?" 

"You  haven't  any  overcoat!" 
"  Not  here, "  he  replied,  his  teeth  chatter- 
ing. 

I*  And  you've  been  out  there  all  this  time?" 
"Well,  there  wasn't  anywhere  else,  Miss 
Burnett.     I  tried  to  break  into  the  baggage 
room  but  the  door  was  locked." 

"I  never  heard  of  anything  so- -so  fool- 
ish! You've  probably  caught  a  terrible 
cold!  •    Then  indignation  gave  way  to  con- 

156 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

cern.  "Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,  really!  It  was 
all  my  fault.  But  you  oughtn't  to  have 
paid  any  attention  to  what  I  said.  I  didn't 
mean  that  you  were  to — to  freeze  to  death, 
Mr.  Forbes!" 

"But  it's  of  no  consequence,  really.  Miss 
Burnett.  I  was  quite  warm  until  a  short 
while  ago.  And  I'm  warm  again  already. 
No,  please!" 

For  Prue  had  seized  her  coat  and  was 
coming  toward  him  determinedly. 

"You  must  put  this  on,"  she  declared. 
"Just  around  your  shoulders,  Mr.  Forbes. 
Oh,  but  you  must,  really!  If  you  should 
catch  cold  I'd  never  forgive  myself  for 
being  so  mean  and  disagreeable." 

"You  weren't,"  declared  Wade  as  he  drew 
the  coat  around  his  shivering  body. 

"I  was;  absolutely  hateful.  But  I'm 
sorry.  There,  that's  better,  isn't  it?  Did- 
n't you  have  any  gloves,  either.?" 

Wade  shook  his  head  smilingly. 

"No,  you  see  I— I  left  hurriedly;  had  no 
time  to  pack." 

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"You  were  very  silly.     You  might  have 
\  killed  yourself." 

"No,  I  had  only  to  land  in  the  snow.  It 
,  ,  ^;  was  easy  enough."  He  turned  and  faced 
'  *  iV  her  squarely.  "Look  here,  Miss  Burnett, 
I've  been  thinking  it  over  out  there  and  I 
guess  you're  right  about— about  the  whole 
thing.  I  guess  I  have  behaved  like  a  cad  all 
along,  and — " 

"I  never  said  that,"  replied  Prue  hurried- 

"And  jumping  off  that  train  was  a  low- 
down  thing  to  do.     You  see,  it  wouldn't 
>  be  so  bad  if  I  hadn't  thought  of  pulling  the 

signal  cord;  but  I  did.     I  even  had  my 
hand  on  it. "     He  paused  and  looked   anx- 
~    ^  iously  at  her  face.     She  was  studying  the 

fffp     '  cracked  top  of  the  stove. 

^    '  "I™ — I'm  sorry, "  he  muttered. 

^Vf  t  "Well,"  she  replied  with  a  little  laugh, 

■  "what's  done  is  done,  isn't  it.'     After  all, 

b  »l     Ai  you  didn't  reaUze,  I  suppose — " 

"*  "Yes,  I  did,"  he  said  doggedly.     "I— I 

just  did  it  on  purpose. " 

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"But  why — No,  I  don't  mean  why- 
"  I  guess  you  know  why, "  he  said.     "  B^ 
cause  ever  since  I  first  saw  you  there  at  the 
opera  house — " 
"Please,  Mr.  Forbes!" 
"Oh,  I  suppose  this  isn't  the  time  nor 
the  place  to  tell  you  this,"  he  hurried  on, 
"but  I'm  going  back  in  the  morning  and  I 
guess  I  shan't  see  you  again.     So — so   I've 
just  got  to. " 

"  Going  back?  "  she  interrupted.      "  Why 
I  thought  you  were  on  your  way  to  Quebec. " 
"I  was.     I  was  going  where  you  went. 
But  I  was  acting  like  an  idiot.     You  see, 
Miss  Burnett,  you— you  sort  of  knocked 
me  in  a  heap.     That  first  moment.     After 
that  I  never  had  any  other  thought  than 
just  to  find  you  again  and — and  keep  after 
you  until—"     He  shook  his  shoulders  im- 
patiently and  the  fur  coat  slid  to  the  floor 
unnoticed.     "I've  read  about  love  at  first 
sight,  but  I  never  believed  in  it  until  that 
night.     Then   I  knew — there  was  such  a 
thing.     Look  here,  maybe  this  is  all  wronir 

159  * 


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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

too?  I've  been  out  there  so  long  I  don't 
know  much  about  the— the  rules  of  the 
game,  Miss  Burnett.  Maybe  I  oughtn't  to 
tell  you  this  while  you're  all  alone  here. 
Maybe  I'm  getting  in  all  wrong  again.  Am 
I?" 

Prue  laughed  uncertainly. 

"It  isn't  wrong,"  she  said  weakly,  "but 
it's— awfully  silly. " 

"I  can  stand  that.  I've  acted  sort  of 
loco  from  the  start.  There  were  the  flowers, 
and  the  sandwiches — " 

"But  the  sandwiches  saved  our  lives," 
she  murmured  demurely. 

"I  suppose  a  chap  who  knew  how  to 
behave  in  society  wouldn't  have  done  those 
things.  But  I— seemed  as  though  I  had 
to.  It  was  all  off  with  me  the  very  first 
second  I  set  my  eyes  on  you.  I  never  knew 
that  women  could  be  so  beautiful  and— 
and  fine.  You  see,  we  don't  have  many  of 
the  nice  kind  oii*  our  way,  and  I've  been 
there  so  long  I'd  forgotten  about  women  I 
used  to  know.     I  just  felt  as  though  you 

160 


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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

were  the  girl  I'd  been  living  for  and  working 
for  all  my  life,  and  that  you  must  feel  it  and 
know  it.  I  thought  all  I  had  to  do  was 
to  stay  around  and — ^and  be  nice  to  you  and 
some  day  you'd  get  to  like  me.  That  was 
silly,  wasn't  it?  And  I  didn't  realize  that 
I  was  making  a  cad  of  myself  by  following 
you  around  the  country." 

"I  never  said  that,"  replied  Prue  softly. 
*'No,  but  I  guess  you  thought  it. " 
"No."     She  shook  her  head  at  the  stove 
lid  slowly.     "  No,  I  never  once  thought  that 
of  you.     I  did  think  you  were — were — " 

"  Go  on, "  he  said  with  a  harsh  laugh.  "  I 
can  stand  it. " 

"Only  that  you  were — sort  of  silly  and — 
and  impetuous. " 

"Impetuous!  What  else  could  I  be? 
You  don't  understand.  You've  never  been 
in  love  like  this,  I  guess ! " 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  she  asked 
quietly. 

He  recalled  Gordon's  chatter  about  King- 
don  Smith. 

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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"I  don't."  he  answered  in  sudden  dejec- 
tion. "Perhaps  you  have.  If  you  have 
you  Imow  how  I  felt.  WeU.  I  guess  that's 
aU.  I  felt  as  though  I  had  to  tell  you.  It 
was  my  only  excuse  for— for  annoying  you. " 

"In  Colorado,"  asked  Prue  without 
glancing  at  him,  "are  the  men  usually— 
aflFected— so  suddenly,  Mr.  Forbes?" 

"I  don't  know.     lam." 

"Always?"  She  turned  a  look  of  inno- 
cent surprise  on  him. 

"You're  making  fun  of  me  now,"  he 
muttered  sadly. 

"No,  I'm  not  making  fun,"  she  replied 
gravely.  "  I  confess  that  I'm— smiling,  Mr. 
Forbes.  You  surely  don't  want  me  to— 
to  think  you  serious,"  she  added  lightly. 

"  You  know  I  am, "  he  said  simply. 

He  was  staring  morosely  at  the  stove. 
Prue  stole  a  look  at  his  face,  smiled  ever  so 
slightly  and  was  silent.  After  a  moment  he 
looked  up  quickly  and  broke  into  impulsive 
speech. 

"Miss  Burnett,  if  things  were  different- 
leg 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

circumstances,  you  know — would  it  have 
been  any  good?  I  mean,  could  I  have  made 
you  care,  do  you  think?" 

"Are  you  serious,  Mr.  Forbes?" 
"Serious !  Good  Lord,  yes !  I  was  never 
more  serious. in  my  life!  You  don't  under- 
stand." He  frowned  perplexedly.  "Why, 
tonight,  when  you  go — on  that  train— I'll 
feel  like— Uke  a  dog  that's  been  kicked  out 
into  the  street  to  starve.  The  bottom  of 
things  is  just  falling  out  completely.  It's 
as  though,  since  I  saw  you,  I'd  been  going 
up  and  up  in  a  bucket,  past  one  level  after 
another  with  the  blue  sky  and  the  real 
world  getting  nearer  and  nearer  with  every 
wind  of  the  windlass.  And  now,  just  when 
I  was  beginning  to  smell  the  surface  and 
feel  the  warmth  of  the  sun,  the  cable's 
broke  and  I'm  falling  straight  for  the  bottom 
with  nothing  ahead  but  a  dull  thud.  You 
bet  it's  serious, "  he  ended  grimly. 

"Then — then  I'm  sorry,"  she  said  gently. 
After  a  pause  she  added;  "That  is,  if  you 
really  must  go  back. " 

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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"But  I— couldn't  go  on,  could  I?"  he 
asked  hopelessly. 
"Why?" 

"Because  if  I  did  it  would  mean  that  I 
would  still  hope." 
"Oh." 

"And  after  what  you've  said—" 

"I  didn't  know  that  I'd  said— anything 

particular, "  she  murmured. 
"You  said  you  didn't  want  to  make  my 

acquaintance  or  see  me  again. " 

"Did  I?  And  you  said,  didn't  you?  that 
it  took  two  to — to  say  good  bye. " 

"Then  you  didn't  mean  it?"  he  cried 
eagerly.  ^  "Not  all  of  it,  that  is?    You'll 

She  laughed. 

"Mr.  Forbes,  how  do  you  expect  me  to 
know  what  I  meant  or  didn't  mean  when 
I'm  starving  to  death?  Do  you  suppose 
there  is  anything  to  eat  anywhere?" 

"Eat?"  he  echoed  vacantly. 

"Yes,  is  eating  quite  outside  your  philoso- 
phy?   Perhaps  it  does  sound  prosaic,  but 

164 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 
I've  had  nothing  since  noon  but  some  spruce 


gum. 


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Wade  rescued  her  coat  from  the  floor, 
handed  it  to  her  and  turned  determinedly 
to  the  door. 

"I'll  find  something,"  he  said. 


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IT  was  nearly  twenty  minutes  Uter  that 
he  returned  with  a  wooden  box  in  his 
arms. 

A      .   "'^T    *™"'*    "^y    t™y«    >n    St. 
Anselme,     he  said  as  he  kicked  the  door 
shut.       Nor  baskets,  either.     So  I  got  a 
^x.    I  m  afraid  this  isn't  a  very  dainty 
repast  but  it  seems  to  be  the  best  the  town 
can  afford.       He  set  the  box  on  the  floor 
and  display^  the  contents.     "Coffee,  bread 
and  butter,  fned  venison  and  stewed  fruit  " 
Lovely!"  she  cried. 
"Well,  wait  and  see.     The  coffee  doesn't 
look  hke  any  coffee  I  ever  saw  outside  a 
mmmg  camp    and  I'm  afraid  the  meat  is 
pretty  cold  by  now.     I  had  to  bring  the 
stuff  about  a  half-mile  " 

166 


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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


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No,  I'm  as  warm  as  toast.  Speaking  of 
toast,  why  not  have  some?  Couldn't  we 
toast  the  bread  at  the  fire?" 

"Of  course!  Give  it  to  me  and  let  me 
do  it.    Is  there  a  fork? 

"Two;  good  old  fashioned  forks  with 
three  tines  and  beautiful  bone  handles. 
Here  you  are.  Let  me  open  that  door  for 
you.  I'll  put  the  coffee  on  top  here  to  keep 
hot.  There  aren't  any  napkins,  I'm  sorry 
to  say. " 

^    "Who  wants  them?"  she  asked  merrily. 
"You  can't  eat  napkins." 

Five  minutes  later  they  were  feasting 
happily.  The  box,  inverted  on  the  bench 
between  them,  made  an  acceptable  if  in- 
secure table.  The  coffee,  sipped  from  clum- 
sy stoneware  cups  and  stirred  with  tin 
spoons,  was  a  new  experience  to  them  both, 
but  Wade  secretly  thought  that  it  came 
nearer  to  being  nectar  than  anything  he 
had  ever  tasted.  The  toast  was  a  huge 
success,  and  the  venison— 

"I  '11  bet  this  deer  was  no  spring  chicken." 
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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

said  Wade  as  he  struggled  with  a  piece  on  his 
plate. 

"How  absurd  you  are,"  answered  Prue. 
"Who  ever  heard  of  a  deer  that  was  a  spring 
chicken?  It's  perfectly  delicious  and  I  was 
never  so  hungry  in  my  life. " 

There  were  no  sauce-plates  for  the  stewed 
peaches,  so  they  ate  them  from  the  bowl 
with  their  coffee  spoons. 

"We  ought  to  have  eaten  these  first  as 
appetizers,"  said  Wade.  "There're  as  sour 
as  vinegar. " 

"Put  some  sugar  on  them,"  she  advised. 
"I'm  going  to.  I'll  have  to  use  my  own 
spoon,  though.  There  isn't  any  more  bread, 
is  there?" 

There  wasn't,  and  Wade  shook  his  head 
disconsolately. 

"I  ought  to  have  brought  more,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  I've  had  quite  enough.  And  it  was 
all  as  nice  as  could  be.  You  are  a  wonder- 
ful caterer,  Mr.  Forbes.  And  now,  will  you 
have  some  spruce  gum?"    She  laughed. 

168 


V.:.i. 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"No,  thanks,  but  I'm  going  to  smoke  if 
I  may. " 

She  nodded  and  watched  him  fill  his 
pipe  and  light  it.  Then  he  returned  the 
dishes  to  the  box  and  shoved  it  under  the 
bench.     Prue  looked  at  her  watch. 

"Why,  it's  almost  seven!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Isn't  that  nice?" 

"Is  it?"  he  asked,  his  face  falling. 

"Isn't  it?  There's  only  two  hours  longer 
to  wait.  That  is,  if  the  train  is  on  time. 
But  I  suppose  that  is  too  much  to  hope  for. " 
'Probably,"  he  said. 
'When  does  your  train  go?"  she  asked 
interestedly. 

"About  eight  in  the  morning." 

"What?  You  don't  mean  that  you  are 
going  to  stay  here  all  night?  Isn't  there 
one  before  that?" 

"Well,  yes,  there's  one  along  in  about 
thirty  minutes,  but  I'm  going  to  see  you  off 
before  I  leave. " 

"Oh,  but  you  mustn't!  Why,  you'd 
have  to  stay  here  for  hours  and  hours!" 

169 


<<' 


if 


-'■"■W' 


\ 


/'^ 


W  «•■>'; 


I  i 


I  i 


>^^ 

-f- 

•  J 

!  1       "? 

-^    " 

A 

\ 

^>  '\ 

^^^ 

(^' 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Yes,  and  alone.  I  mean — "  he  hesitated, 
then  went  on  desperately,  "  Oh,  it's  not  the 
waiting  I  mind;  it's  losing  you!" 

"Poor  Mr.  Forbes!"  she  sighed  lugubri- 
ously. 

Wade  jumped  up  and  strode  to  the  win- 
dow and  stood  a  moment  stari:ig  unseeingly 
out  into  the  storm.  Then  he  turned,  with 
a  shake  of  his  shoulders,  and  came  back  to 
where  she  sat. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  I'm  aA^iiug  like  an  awful 
ass,"  he  exclaimed  with  a  wry  smile,  "and 
I  don't  blame  you  for  laughing  at  me. 
Perhaps  I'd  better  go  outside  again  for 
awhile. " 

"Outside?    But  why?" 

"Oh,  because. "  He  sank  onto  the  bench 
and  stared  moodily  at  his  interlaced  fingers. 
Ensued  a  silence  broken  only  by  the  soft 
fall  of  a  coal  in  the  stove. 

"I  suppose  it  bores  you  to  death,"  he 
said  finally,  "but  I  just  have  to  talk  about 
it." 

"It?"  she  asked. 

170 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


..•^. 


"Yes,  about  myself — and  you.  You  see, 
I  can't  help  thinking —  it  may  be  con- 
ceited and  all  that —  but  somehow  it  seems 
to  me  that  if  I  had  only  come  around  sooner 
I  might  have  stood  a  chance.  Even  then 
circumstances  would  have  been  against  me, 
I  guess,  but — " 

"Please,  what  are  the  mysterious  cir- 
cumstances, Mr.  Forbes?  You  mentioned 
them  before,  didn't  you?" 

"  I  mean — I  was  thinking  of  your  wealth." 

"My — what?"  she  exclaimed. 

"Your  wealth.    Your  brother  told  me." 

"Oh!  Gordon  told  you  about  my  wealth? 
Would  you  mind  telling  me  just  what  he 
said,  Mr.  Forbes?" 

"Why,  only  that  you  and  he  ?  ad  a  couple 
of  miUions  each.  I  didn't  intend  to  pimip 
him.  Miss  Burnett,  and — " 

"Don't  apologize.  I  dare  say  he  didn't 
require  much  encouragement.  Gordon  is 
very — communicative.  Also  very  imagin- 
ative. " 

Wade  looked  at  her  hopefully. 
171 


,v 


'J 


>l 


S' 


\_  r. 


•>^ 


VN 


4^5:5^  S.^ 


\;, 


N  \ 


V   '^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

;,  "Imaginative?      You    mean    that    you 
aren't  that  wealthy?" 

"Exactly.  Gordon  and  I  have  enough 
to  live  on  and  that's  about  all.  Aunt  Mil- 
dred is  putting  him  through  school.  I 
don't  think  he  means  to  tell  lies,  exactly, 
but — but  he  romances. " 

"Then  you're  not  rich!"  Wade  exclaimed. 

"Not  at  all  rich,  Mr.  Forbes." 

"By  Jove!    That— that's  great!" 

"Well,  really,  I'm  afraid  I  can't  share 
your  enthusiasm, "  she  laughed.  "  Is  it  such 
a  fortunate  thing  to  be  near-poor?" 

"Yes — ^no — ^Look  here,  there  was  another 
thing  he  told  me — "     He  stopped  suddenly. 

"Yes?  You'd  better  tell  me,  for  it  was 
probably  as  imaginative  as  the  story  about 
the  two  millions. " 

"Well,  please  don't  think  me  cheeky, 
but  is  there  a  chap  named  Smith?" 

"I  should  say,"  responded  Prue  demure- 
ly, "that  there  might  be  several  chaps  of 
that  name. " 

"But— Kingdon  Smith?" 
172 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Yes,  there  is.  He  is  a  friend.  Just 
what  did  Gordon  tell  you  about  Mr.  Smith?" 

"He  said  that  he  thought  that  if  you 
married  anyone  it  would  be  Kingdon  Smith, 
but  that  it  wasn't  definitely  decided  yet." 

"It  isn't,"  saidPrue. 

"Well — "  But  Wade  reconsidered  the 
remark.  Instead,  "  I  suppose  he  has  plenty 
of  money.'*"  he  asked.     Prue  nodded. 

"I  think  so.  Does  his  financial  condition 
interest  you?" 

"Not  especially,"  was  the  glum  response. 

"Because  if  it  does,"  continued  Prue, 
shooting  a  lightning  glance  from  under  her 
lashes,  "Mr.  Smith  will  be  in  Quebec  in  a 
day  or  two,  and,  if  you  cared  to,  you  might 
stay  over  and  confer  with  him  personally. " 

"  If  I  did  stay  I'd  be  more  likely  to  throw 
him  into  the  river, "  growled  Wade. 

"Poor  Mr.  Smith!"  she  laughed, 
would  be  so — so  astounded  at  the 
ment!" 

"You  say  it  isn't  settled  yet?" 

"What?" 

173 


"He 

treat - 


>,^N 


.-  \ 


/ 


"V- 


ii 


^:^^^■ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"That  you're  to  marry  him?" 

"No,  it  isn't  settled— yet. " 

"I  suppose  he's  going  to  ask  you  for — 
for  your  answer  when  he  comes?" 

"Don't  you  think  that  perhaps  you're  a 
little  bit —  How  shall  I  say  it  politely, 
Mr.  Forbes? — a  little  bit  inquisitorial?" 

"Cheeky,  I  suppose  you  mean,"  he 
muttered.  "Perhaps  I  am,  but  I've  got 
to  risk  that.     WTiat  I—" 

"I  believe  you're  rather  fond  of  risks," 
she  said  thoughtfully. 

"A  man  will  risk  anything  if  the  prize  is 
big  enough.  Look  here,  I  wish  you'd  do 
something. " 

"Well?" 

"Give  me  a  chance.  Hold  that  chap  ofif 
for  a  week.     You  don't  dislike  me  now,  do 

"Dislike  you?  N-no.  On  the  contrary, 
Mr.  Forbes,  I  think  you  decidedly  interest- 
ing and — breezy. " 

"You  mean  that  I  amuse  you?" 
"Something  of  the  sort,  I  suppose." 
174 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


"Well,  that  will  do  for  a  start.  You 
dorCt  dislike  me;  that's  something.  Give 
me  a  week  and  let  me  see  if  I  can't  make  as 
good  a  showing  as  Smith.     Will  you?" 

"You're  absolutely  absurd!"  she  laughed' 
"I  haven't  said  that  I  intended  marrying 
Mr.  Smith. " 

"You  shan't  if  I  can  prevent  it,"  he 
answered  grimly.  "Will  you  give  me  my 
chance?" 

"A  whole  week?"  she  asked  mockingly. 
"  I  don't  think  you  do  yourself  justice.  I'm 
sure  you  don't  really  beUeve  you  need  all 
that  time. " 

He  flushed. 

"That  means  that  you  think  me  con- 
ceited. Well,  perhaps  I  am.  At  least,  I 
think  I'm  as  good  a  man  as  Kingdon  Smith." 
He  turned  with  a  new  expression  on  his  face. 
The  frowns  were  gone  and  he  smiled  con- 
fidently. "He  can't  love  you  more  than  I 
do;  no  man  could;  certainly  no  man  by  the 
name  of  Smith.  He  may  have  more  money 
than  I  have  at  present,  but  in  ten  years 

175 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

I'll  be  able  to  buy  him  and  sell  him.  Not 
that  I'm  a  beggar  now;  my  partner  and  I 
divided  a  hundred  and  four  thousand  this 
year  in  profits.  Perhaps  he's  better  look- 
ing, more — polished,  can  talk  better.  But 
he  can't  do  any  more  for  you  nor  make  you 
any  happier  than  I  can.  If  he's  of  good 
family,  so  am  I.  The  Forbeses  are  one  of 
the  oldest  families  in  New  York  state.  He 
can't  have  anything  on  me  there." 

The  girl's  smiles  were  gone  and  she  was 
gazing  at  him  in  a  sort  of  wondering  fas- 
cination, the  color  deepening  each  moment 
in  her  cheeks. 

"I  won't  ask  for  a  week.  Miss  Burnett. 
As  you  say,  it's  too  long.  I  don't  need  it 
to  win  out  from  Smith. "  He  looked  at  his 
watch.  "It's  seven  twenty  now.  Give 
me  until  your  train  goes.  That's  all  I'll 
ask.     Will  you  give  me  that?" 


v 


T'v 


X    \ 


176 


■:^i 


XIII 


THERE  was  a  little  silence.     Prur"> 
gaze  wavered  and  fell.     Finally, 
"I    never   heard — "    she  began 
falteringly,  and  stopped. 
"Of  all  the  absurd — "  she  began  again. 
"Absurd,  if  you  like,"  he  said  calmly. 
"Do  I  get  it?" 

She  raised  her  eyes  and  studied  his  face 
a  moment,  their  glances  meeting  and  chal- 
lenging in  the  dim  light.  Then  a  little 
smile  crept  around  her  lips. 

"That,  I  suppose,"  she  said  lightly,  "is 
what  you'd  call  a  sporting  proposition,  Mr. 
Forbes?" 

"You  said    I    liked    risks.     I'm    taking 


one 


Then  you  propose,"  she  asked  with  a 
return  of  the  old   mockerj',   "to  make   a 

177 


■MliPIP 


mi 


wnm 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

complete  conquest  of  my — my  affections  in 
something  like  two  hours,  Mr.  Forbes?" 

"Nearer  an  hour  and  a  half,  I'd  say.  Miss 
Burnett.  No,  I  say  nothing  about  making 
a  complete  conquest;  perhaps  I  shall  only 
succeed  in  losing  what  little  ground  I  have ; 
but  it's  a  fighting  chance  and  Til  take  it. 
What  do  you  say.'  Call  it  a  sporting  prop- 
osition, if  you  like;  call  it  rank  lunacy." 

"And  what — am  I  supposed  to  agree  to.' 
What  am  I  to  do?" 

"Nothing  except  forget  that  you  have 
known  me  only  a  day;  give  me  the  same 
standing  as  Smith;  let  me  start  even  with 
him.     Will  you?" 

"It  sounds  amusing,"  she  said  carelessly, 
"but—" 

"You're  not  afraid?"  he  challenged. 

"  Afraid?  Not  the  least  bit,  Mr.  Forbes." 
She  laugheil  softly  and  settled  back  in  the 
corner.     "Pray  Ivgin." 

"Thanks."  Wade  gave  a  sigh,  took  a 
knee  in  his  hands  and  faced  her  smilingly. 
"Whether   I   win   or   lose.   Miss   Burnett, 

178 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

you've  been  generous.     You  see,  I  grant 
the  pcMsibility  of  defeat.** 

"That's  modest,*'  she  murmured. 

"Meaning  that  it  isn't.  Well,  perhaps 
modesty  isn't  one  of  the  things  they  teach 
out  our  way.  Modesty,  in  fact,  doesn't  do  a 
chap  much  good  when  he's  hustling  for 
things  in  our  country.  It's  the  chap  who 
elbows  his  way  through  and  reaches  out 
and  grabs  what  he's  after  that  makes  the 
hit.  I've  done  that;  had  to.  Usually  I've 
got  what  I  wanted.  When  I  told  Dave — 
Dave  is  my  partner,  and  the  best  old  rough 
diamond  that  ever  lived.  When  I  told  him 
that  I  had  seen  the  woman  I  wanted,  and 
had  set  my  mind  on  getting  her,  Dave  was 
a  little  inclined  to  be  pessimistic  at  first. 
'You  can't  come  here  and  pick  out  a  gal 
and  just  marry  her  out  of  hand,*  said  Dave. 
Then  I  asked  him  why  not,  and  he  didn't 
seem  to  know.  After  he'd  thought  it  over 
a  while  he  concluded  it  wasn't  so  unreason- 
able after  all.  'I  don't  say  you  won't  do 
it,'  he  said.     'I  don't  recollect  ever  s<*eing 

179 


'.i\ 


«■  '.■^^^.] 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


'>i. 


I 


!       I 


\       you  go  after  a  thing  and  not  get  it.'    And 
!       that's  encouraging,  anyhow." 
f  "Now  you're  trying  to  intimidate  me," 

\       she  said,  affecting  alarm. 

"No,  I  wasn't,  really,"  he  laughed. 
"Besides,  there's  a  saying  that  all  signs 
fail  in  dry  weather. " 

She  shook  her  head.  "I  fear  that's 
beyond  me,  Mr.  Forbes. " 

"It  is  rather  obscure,  I'll  confess.  But 
I  understand  that  saying  to  mean  that  as 
long  as  it  doesn't  much  matter,  you  can 
tell  what  the  weather  is  going  to  be  from  a 
study  of  the  signs,  but  when  there's  a  long 
drought  and  it  means  a  lot  to  have  rain,  the 
usual  indications  can't  be  depended  on. 
Perhaps  it's  so  in  my  case.  The  fact  that 
I've  usually  obtained  what  I  wanted  when 
my  wants  weren't  vastly  important,  doesn't 
signify  that  I  won't  fail  now  that  I'm  after 
what  really  counts.  Rather  involved,  isn't  it?" 

"A  little,"  she  agreed.  "Tell  me  about 
this  Dave.  You  say  he  is  your  partner? 
And  you  are  interested  in  mining?" 

180 


CLPID  EN  ROLTE 


/ 


"We  own  a  mine  together,  Miss  Burnett,  v/J^ 
the  Better  Days,  at  Lone  Mesa,  Colorado.    '^ 
We  found  it  at  a  time  when  we  were  both  ' 

about  as  hard  up  as  we  could  be  and  the 
name  explains  what  we  hoped  for.  And 
we  weren't  disappointed.  The  Better  Days 
is  one  of  the  best  little  producers  in  the 
state  and  we  haven't  much  more  than 
scratched  the  surface  yet.  It  was  hard 
work  for  a  while,  though.  Winter  shut 
down  on  us  before  we'd  got  much  done  and 
we  had  to  worry  through  it  without  knowing 
for  certain  whether  we'd  really  struck  a 
good  lode  or  merely  a  pocket.  There  were 
times  that  winter — "     He  stopped  with  a 

shake  of  his  head. 

"  Tell  me, "  she  said  interestedly.     "  How 

did  you  happen  to  find  it?    Did  you  just 

stumble  on  it  the  way  they  do  in  stories?" 
"Not  a  bit  of  it!    We  prospected  for 

almost  three  months  before  we  found  that 

claim.     We'd  been  down  in  the  southwest. 

Our  grub  gave  out  and  we  had  to  get  back. 

We  struck  Telluride   dead-broke   and   lay 

181 


'  J "-- 


"3 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


I- 

i 

■5r 


Iti 


i!? 


if 


••i 
.  < 


.^: 


around  there  for  a  week  trying  to  get  some- 
one to  grub-stake  us.  Finally  we  did 
manage  to  get  another  start.  But  we 
couldn't  go  very  far  on  what  we  had  and 
so  we  decided  to  look  about  nearby.  You 
remember  the  old  story  of  the  man  who 
traveled  around  the  world  looking  for  a 
four-leafed  clover  or  something  and  then 
came  back  empty-handed  only  to  find  what 
he  sought  at  his  own  door-step?  It  was 
that  way  with  us.  Lone  Mesa  is  only  a 
short  distance  from  Telluride.  There  were 
a  few  claims  being  worked  there  when  we 
reached  it,  but  no  one  was  getting  rich. 
We  looked  the  place  over  and  began  to 
scratch  around  and  inside  of  a  week  we  hit 
on  our  claim.  We  filed  and  I  went  to 
Denver  and  bullied  a  man  there  into  lend- 
ing us  enough  money  to  develop.  It  was 
late  by  that  time,  though,  and  the  snows 
came,  and  we  had  to  wait  for  spring.  But 
in  the  spring  we  found  that  we  were  to  be 
repaid  for  waiting.  Now  we're  shipping 
three  or  four  cars  a  day  to  the  mills." 

182 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


"But  it  is  just  like  a  stor>%  after  all,  Mr. 
Forbes.  And  this  Dave,  it  was  he  who 
was  with  you  that  evening  at  the  opera? 
A  great  big  man  with  a  voice  like — like  a 
fog-horn?" 

"That  was  Dave.  He  had  never  been 
East  in  his  life  and  I  persuaded  him  to  come 
and  see  the  countrj'.  He  had  a  wonderful 
time.  Miss  Burnett,  and  it  was  a  lot  of  fun 
for  me,  vou  mav  be  sure.  He's  a  devoted 
admirer  of  yours,  by  the  way.  He  said 
you  were  a  'peach!' 

Prue  laughed.  "He  must  have  found 
lots  of  things  to  interest  him,"  she  said. 
"  I'd  like  to  have  met  him.  He  was  lovely 
the  night  he  pushed  that  man  away  from 
me  in  front  of  the  opera  house.  For  a 
moment  I  was  quite  as  scared  of  him  as  I 
was  of  the  other;  until  I  saw  his  face." 

"  He's  one  of  the  best  men  the  Lord  ever 
made,"  said  Wade  earnestly.  "But  he  was 
funnv  in  New  York.  Let  me  tell  you  about 
how  he  bought  a  red  dress  for  his  wife." 

So  Wade  recounted  their  adventures  in 
188 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


iff 


m 


X 


H 

f 

1 

1"-* 

* 

5S 

( 
1 

i    - 

»4 

^ 

'^ 

-«=.■ 

-"-- 

search  of  the  flamingo  gown,  and  Pnie 
found  it  vastly  amusing.  He  followed 
that  with  other  incidents  of  Dave's  stay  in 
the  metropolis,  and  then  harked  back  to 
the  West  and  told  of  his  first  meeting  with 
Dave.    And  when  he  stopped  Prue  sighed. 

"It  must  be  wonderful  to  be  a  man," 
she  said  thoughtfully.  "He  has  so  many 
things  happen  to  him." 

"Not  all  pleasant,  though,"  said  Wade 
smilingly. 

"What  does  that  matter?  They're— 
they're  Mnqsy  they're  adventures !  Women 
just  exist;  their  days  are  all  alike;  nothing 
ever  really  happens  to  them. " 

"Is  today  like  all  your  other  days?" 
asked  Wade. 

"No,  that's  true,"  she  laughed.  "I'm 
really  having  an  adventure!  I've  been 
kidnapped  and  held  captive  by— by  a  very 
desperate  character  who — "  She  paused 
and  went  on  gravely;  "Do  you  know, 
Mr.  Forbes,  I'd  quite  forgotten  that  you 


were — were — 


184 


,9" 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"So  had  I,"  answered  Wade  truthfully. 
"And—"  looking  at  his  watch— "I've  wast- 
ed a  half -hour ! "  He  laughed  ruefully.  "  I 
shall  have  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  Miss 
Burnett.  By  the  way,  I  dare  say  Smith 
calla  you  by  your  first  name?" 

"Sometimes,"  she  replied  gravely. 

"And  you  call  him— Kingdon?" 

"Just  King." 

"Then,Prue— " 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  exclaimed  the  girl 

startledly. 
"I  called  you  Prue,"  he  said  calmly.       I 

was  to  have  the  same  privileges  as  Smith, 
wasn  t  1.'' 

"Oh!    .      .      .     But—' 

"Does  he  kiss  you?" 

"  No ! "    This  resentfully  and  explosively . 

"  I  'm  glad  of  that, "  mused  Wade.     "  Not 

but  what — " 

He  didn't  finish,  but  the  color  crept  into 

Pnie's  cheeks. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,  "what  it  is  about  me 

that  vou  don't  Hke." 

185 


'-^ 


*' 


I 


«*  (I 


li 


^ 


.-■-t:" 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

^         ,  "^  "That  I  don't  like?"  she  faltered. 
i'^Y'^fs.    "Yes,"     he     answered     encouragingly. 
\  '  i   j  ^*  Where  in  your  judgment  do  I  fall  short  as 


'■'-X 


;,/*-■ 


f^^ 

-    :>r 
\  \'.\ 

m 


— as  a  future  husband?" 

"^hy — why,   I   don't  know   you,   Mr. 

Forbes." 

"Wade,  please,"  he  said  gently. 

"I  shan't!"  she  cried  with  crimsoning 

face. 

««Well — we'll  waive  that  for  the  moment. 

Is  that  all?    It's  only  that  you  don't  know 

me?" 

"Of  course  that  isn't  all!     I  don't— care 

for  you." 

"You  mean  you  don't  love  me?"    She 

nodded.  , 

"  Do  you  think  you  could,  Frue?  " 
"You've  no  right  to  ask  such  a  question," 

she  replied  indignantly. 
"Yes,  I  have  a  right  to  ask  it.    And  you 

have  a  right  to  refuse  to  answer  it, "  he  said 

jUntroubledly. 
; '     "Then  I  use  my  right,"  she  said  a  little 

hysterically. 

186 


^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Still,  you  see,  don't  you,  that  neither  of 
the  reasons  you  have  advanced  are — 
adequate?" 

"  I  see  nothing  of  the  sort. " 

"But  look!"  He  tapped  one  palm  with 
his  pipe  as  though  to  lend  emphasis.  "The 
first  objection  is  easily  remedied.  I'm  not 
hard  t>  >  know.  That  merely  takes  a  little 
time;  say  a  week  or  ten  days.  The  second 
objection — well,  I  don't  say  positively  that 
that  can  be  remedied,  but  I  think  it  might. 
Do  you?" 

"  I — I  haven't  considered  it. " 

"Well,  won't  you,  please?  You  see,  it 
makes  a  lot  of  difference  to  me,  Prue. " 

"You  have  no  right  to  call  me  Prue!" 

"You're  forgetting  our  compact." 

"Well,  you  needn't — do  it  so  much, 
then." 

"I'll  try  not  to.  You  decline  to  consider 
it,  then?" 

"I  do." 

"That's  unwise.  For  all  you  know  I 
may  be  just  the  chap  for  you.    I  think  you 

187 


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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

ought  to  give  the  matter  thought.    Don't 
you?" 

"I  think  you're  acting  very  silly  and 
talking  a  great  deal  of  nonsense,"  said  Prue 
severely. 

"Well,  unless  there  were  some  doubt  in 
my  favor  you  wouldn't  need  to  consider  that 
question;  you'd  know  without  thinking 
about  it.  So  I  shall  conclude  that  if  you 
knew  me  better  you  might  learn  to  care  for 


me. 


"I  never  said  such  a  thing,  Mr.  Forbes!" 

"  No,  the  conclusion  is  mine. " 

"It's  a  wrong  conclusion,  then!" 

"I  hope  not." 

"Mr.  Forbes,  you  are  making  me  very 


>> 


angry 
1  m 


sorry.  Still,  I'd  rather  have 
you  angry  with  me  than  totally  indiffer- 
ent." 

"But  I  am  indifferent!" 
"Then  you're  not  angry.     And  I'm  glad 
of  that,  for  I'm  not  nearly  through  yet." 
Prue  sighed  exasperatedly  and  folded  her 
188 


.-T.     f,'',-       ■"vi^,:.-r-  - 


B  ^ 


F-  rofr'T'S  Li 


HRIE    HICMEI)    EXASPERATEDLY— .\Hi4lMIN(; 
AN     EXPRESSION    OF    BORED 
PATIENCE  " 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

hands  in  her  lap  assuming  an  expression  uf 
bored  patience. 

"Go  on,"  she  said.  "If  you  have  any 
more  absurd  things  to  say,  please  say  them 
and  get  through. " 

"  They're  not  absurd,"  he  answered  gently . 
"Prue,  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart  and 
soul,  dear,  and  I  want  you  to  marry  me. 
Wait,  please!  I  know  the  whole  thing  looks 
— ^funny,  but  try  to  forget  that  a  minute. 
Just  consider  that  here's  a  man  who  saw 
you  by  accident  one  evening  and  fell  in  love 
with  you.  He's  not  a  bad  sort  of  a  chap. 
I  mean  that  he  isn't  worse  than  *■'  '^  average 
man;  has  tried  to  live  straight  ad  clean. 
There's  nothing  against  him  on  the  score 
of  birth  and  breeding,  although  his  parlor 
tricks  haven't  been  developed  much.  He 
has  money  enough  to  give  you  what  you 
want  and  he  will  have  a  lot  more.  And  he 
loves  you — ^girl,  you  don't  know  how  much! 
Now,  dear,  is  it  so  absurd,  after  all?" 

"  I — ^I  don't  know  what  to  say, "  murmur- 
ed Prue,  returning  his  look  with   a   brief 

189 


>%" 


/ 


,  \ 


k> 


\  '    ■ 


\ 


■•MMIMta 


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k 


^' 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

glance  at  once  anxious  and  perplexed.    "  Ii*s 
all    so — so — strange! " 

"Say  'yes,'  "  he  answered  boldly. 

"But-butlcan't!" 

••Why?" 

"Why,  because^because  I  canH,  I  muat- 

rCil  I  mean — " 

can't   do   or 


IC 


'Never   mind    what   you 
mustn't  do!    fTtW  you?" 

He  leaned  toward  her  and  rested  one  hand 
lightly  on  her  folded  ones.  They  moved 
restively,  but,  finding  they  were  not  to 
be  imprisoned,  made  no  effort  to  es- 
cape. 

*'Will  you,  Prue?"  he  urged  pleadingly, 
softly.  She  tried  to  raise  her  eyes,  tried 
to  bring  back  the  scoffing  smile  to  her  lips, 
but  a  panic  held  her.  For  the  first  time  in 
such  d  situation  she  was  afraid!  Not  of 
the  man  before  her,  not  of  herself,  but  of 
some  power  outside  of  them  both  that 
seemed  to  be  drugging  her  into  a  state  of 
resistlessness,  a  resistlessness  that  was  the 
more  perturbing  because  so  strangely  sweet! 

190 


^''>^.»i*C-*-j 


CUPrDEN  ROUTB^     _  ^^ 

His  hand  pressed  more  closely  on  hers,  and, 
"You  won't?"  he  asked. 

The  tone  of  doubt  broke  for  an  instant 
the  spell  that  held  her.  She  shook  her 
head. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment.  She 
wanted  to  get  up  and  run  away,  but  as  long 
as  his  hand  lay  there  on  hers  she  felt  power- 
less to  move.  At  last  it  slipped  away 
slowly  and  she  drew  a  sigh  of  relief.  Her 
courage  came  back  to  her  and  she  raised 
her  eyes.  He  was  not  looking  at  her  now, 
ut  sat  leaning  forward,  elbows  on  knees, 
hands  loosely  clasped  in  an  attitude  of 
dejection,  his  frowning  gaze  fixed  on  the 
floor. 

"You  are  sure?"  he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

She  hesitated.  Was  she  sure?  The 
world  seemed  suddenly  to  have  grown 
topsy-turvy  and  nothing  was  certain  any 
more.     But, 

"Yes,"  she  said  quite  distinctly. 

He  sat  for  a  moment  longer  in  silence. 
Then  he  threw  back  his  shoulders  and  drew 

191 


*fj 


V  ^ 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


out  his  watch.  She  experienced  a  qualm 
of  irritation  that  he  could  think  of  time  at 
such  a  moment.  The  door  opened  and  the 
agent  entered.  He  smiled  and  bowed  and 
went  into  his  room.  As  he  opened  the  door 
the  click  of  the  telegraph  instrument  came 
to  them.  Wade  dropped  his  watch  back 
into  his  pocket  and  looked  at  her  with  a 
grave  smile. 

"Well,  I  lose,"  he  said.  Their  glances 
held  a  moment,  hers  curious,  anxious,  his 
searching,  doubting.     Then  he  arose. 

"Excuse  me  a  moment,"  he  said,  and 
went  to  the  ticket  window  which  had  just 
been  pushed  up.  Prue  watched  him  as  he 
stood  there  talking  to  the  agent.  Somehow, 
his  defeat  brought  her  no  sense  of  triumph. 
She  wondered  why. 

"The  train  for  Sherbrooke  seems  to  be 
late,"  said  Wade. 

"Yes,  monsieur,  I  have  just  had  news  of 

her.    She  is  leaving  Levis  more  than  an 

hour  late.     Undoubtedly  the  ferry  causes 

the  delay. " 

192 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"  And  the  oth   •  train,  the  one  to  Quebec?  " 
"On  time,  monsieur,  absolutely  on  time, 

to  the  minute." 

"Which    will    reach   here   first,   do   you 

think?" 

"The  train  for  the  north.  She  has  the 
right  of  way.  She  will  pass  the  other  at 
the  next  station  above. " 

"Good,"  said  Wade.  He  glanced  at  the 
clock.  "Then  she  will  be  here  in  twenty 
minutes?" 

"In  twenty  minutes,  monsieur.  I  hope 
the  lady  has  been  comfortable,  yes?" 

"Quite,  I  believe.  Let  me  have  a  ticket 
to  Sherbrooke,  please. 

"At  once,  monsieur,  this  instant." 

"  I'm  going  to  be  able  to  catch  the  seven- 
thirty  from  Quebec,  after  all,  I  find,"  he 
said  when  he  returned  to  her.  "  It  is  leaving 
Levis  over  an  hour  late;  trouble  with  the 
ferry,  the  agent  thinks.  So  your  train, 
which  is  right  on  time,  will  get  here  first  and 
I  can  see  you  on  board.  I'm  glad  not  to 
have  to  spend  the  night  here. " 

193 


11 


H 


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ii"! 


(A'    k 


tj.! 


If? 


,'T>.V%T^' 


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ill  I 
111 


fe 


...-c 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"Yes,"  she  answered  vaguely. 

There  seemed  little  to  say  after  that. 
The  giant  with  the  red  beard  returned  and 
smiled  upon  them  broadly. 

"The  snow  she  stop,"  he  announced 
cheerfully.     "She  get  cold  now." 

Prue  arose  and  walked  to  a  window. 
Already  the  stars  were  peeping  through  the 
clouded  sky. 

"Couldn't  we  go  out  for  a  few  minu  js 
before  the  train  comes?"  she  asked.  "I'd 
like  to  get  a  breath  of  air.  Will  you  be  too 
cold?" 

"  Not  a  bit, "  he  answered. 

They  went  out  on  to  the  platform  and 
found  a  sheltered  corner.  A  little  wind  was 
blowing  the  clouds  away  fast,  and  between 
them  the  sky  was  blue-black  and  scintil- 
lant  with  frosty-white  stars. 

"This  is  Christmas  Eve,"  he  said. 

"Why,  yes,"  she  replied.  "I'd  forgot- 
ten." 

"I  hope  you'll  have  a  very  merry  Christ- 


mas.' 


194 


'i"''*!>?^»--***<»'' 


■  :i-^ 


"V 


■^..<^' 


V 


^ 

"r^^^ 
f     ^ 

U- 

^ 

:* 

CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


ft 


\  ■ 


"And  I  hope  you  will,  Mr.  Forbes." 

"Thank  you."  He  smiled  grimly  in 
contemplation  of  it.  *=^ 

"You  will  get  home  in  time  for — ^f or  what? 
Dinner.?" 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  he  said.  "You  see, 
I  won't  be  able  to  get  out  of  Sherbrooke 
until  tomorrow  evening.  I  guess  my  Christ- 
mas dinner  will  be  eaten  at  the  hotel. 
However,  I  shall  do  well  enough.  I  wish 
though,  that  I'd  thought  to  ask  them  to  send 
my  bag  and  coat  down  on  that  seven-thirty." 

"Is  it  too  late  nowi  '  she  asked  anxiously. 

"I'm  afraid  so.  It  'oesn't  matter.  I 
dare  say  I  can  buy  some  sort  of  a  coat  at 
Sherbrooke. " 

She  was  silent  a  minute.     Then, 

"I  hate  to  think  of  you  spending  your 
Christmas  there,"  she  said  troubledly.  "I 
feel  as  though — I  were  to  blame,  you  see." 

"Not  at  all,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "And 
I  dare  say  I'll  quite  enjoy  it.  There  must 
be  something  to  see  there;  perhaps  they've 
got  a  South  African  Monument. " 

195 


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t  <^/-- 


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1  '  , 


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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


"Just  the  same,  I  wish  you  were  coming 
to  Quebec. " 

"You  wish — "  He  turned  and  tried  to 
make  out  her  face  in  the  starHght. 

From  a  distance  came  the  whistle  of  the 
north-bound  train. 

"You'd  be  comfortable  there,"  she  went 
on  hurriedly.  "And  I  don't  see — why  my 
being  in  the  same  town  need — annoy  you. " 

"Annoy  me!" 

"Well— trouble  you." 

"It  would,  though.  No,  I've  made 
enough  of  a  nuisance  of  myself.  Miss  Bur- 
nett. About  the  only  thing  I  can  do  to 
retrieve  myself  is  to  make  my  exit  as  grace- 
fully as  I  can. " 

"  But,  don't  you  see,  you're  spoiling  my 
holiday  too.?  I  feel  as  though  I  were  de- 
priving you  of  your  visit  to  Quebec,  Mr. 
Forbes." 

"Why  shouldn't  you.?  You  were  the 
cause  of  my  going.  Why  shouldn't  you  be 
the  cause  of  my  turning  back?  No,  you 
mustn't  feel  that  way  about  it.    Quebec 

196 


f] 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

I 

means  no  more  to  me  than  any  other  place, 
except  that  it  will  hold  you.  And  now — " 
He  stopped. 

The  train  whistled  again  and  they  heard 
the  throb! )ing  of  it  on  the  rails. 

"But — if  I  ask  you  to  come?" 

The  sound  of  the  approaching  train  filled 
her  with  dismay. 

"If  you  ask  me  to  come,"  he  said  tensely, 
"it  must  be  for  just  one  reason. " 

There  was  a  break  in  the  little  laugh  she 
essayed. 

"Oh,  I  don't  care,"  she  whispered  reck- 
lessly. "  Call  it  any  reason  you  like.  Only 
— ^please  come!" 

A  light  glimmered  along  the  rails. 

"Prue!"  he  whispered.  He  groped  for 
her  hands  and  found  them  awaiting  him. 
"Is  it  true,  dear?" 

"Oh,  yes,  yes!"  she  answered  between 
laughter  and  tears,  "Don't  you  see  it  is? 
You  thought  you  were  the  only  one  that — 
cared — from  the  first.  But  you  weren't. 
I  cared  too,  from  the  first  time. " 

197 


K?  - 


TTr^wwwfWBrp^BppiippiBPi 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 


»> 


<  T^  "Prue! 

I 

^  And  I  kept  caring  more.  But  I  didn 
know  it-reaUy.  I  didn't-imtil  just  no^ 
in  there.  You  see,  you  did  win,  after  aU! 
His  arms  went  around  her  and  she  lifte* 
her  face  frankly  to  his  in  the  darkness.  Th 
words  he  murmured  were  lost  in  the  roa 
of  the  train.  A  yellow  radiance  enfoldec 
them  and  she  drew  back  with  a  little  gasp  o 
dismay  and  caught  the  engineer's  smile  at 
he  swept  by,  leaning  from  the  window  ol 
the  cab. 

"All  aboard  for  Quebec!" 

On  the  way  to  the  parlor  car  they  met  the 
giant,  swmging  under  his  load,  seeking  the 
day  coach. 

"She  ver'  good  train,"  he  called  with 
merry  smile.  "She  on  time,  madame! 
lion  soir!    Bon  soir,  m'sieur!" 

"Seats  seven  and  eight,  su-,"  said  the 
conductor.     "All  right  here!" 

The  train  started.  The  conductor  closed 
the  vestibule  doors  and  shot  an  interested 

198 


(kl 


r      «r'  '^     ,^t(  . 


HIS     \IJMS    UKNT     VHOIM)    HKK 


'ft 


3 

'1 


CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

glance  at  the  two  passengers  who  lingered 
on  the  platform  ere  he  disappeared  into  the 
coach.  The  little  station  with  its  one  dim 
light  slipped  away. 

"I  almost  hate  to  leave  it,"  whispered 
Prue. 

"And  I,"  he  answered. 

"It's  "  dear  little  place,"  she  sighed 
happily.  'St.Anselme.  Do  you  know  what 
Anselme  means,  sir.?" 

''It  means  happiness  to  me,  Sweetheart. " 
^ "It  means  the  protection  of  God.  Does- 
n't that  seem  Hke  a  good  omen— Wade?" 

"Yes,  dear,"  he  answered  devoutly. 

Presently  she  drew  away  from  him  and 
smoothed  her  hair  under  the  absurd  felt 
hat,  laughing  softly. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "we  must  get  ready  to 
face  Auntie!" 

"And  I,"  he  said,  "must  write  a  tele- 
gram. " 

"A  telegram?" 
"To  Dave." 

"Oh!    And  what  are  you  going  to  sav?" 
199 


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CUPID  EN  ROUTE 

"I'm  going  to  say:  'Look  for  wat< 
P^tcher^  AddH^ss.  Chateau  FrontenL,Qu 
bee.    Merry  Christmas.     WadeandlSue' 


!'.  -- 


200 


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